The Power of Prophecy: Premonition
by Ariel D
Summary: Story 7. While Nyx furthers her training, Entreri, Jarlaxle, and Tai have an unexpected brush with the paranormal. Issues of friendship, power, and predestination quickly come into play. Complete.
1. Prologue

**Important Note:** If you are new to my trilogy-based fanfics, I suggest you go back to story 1, "Progression of a Killer," and start there. However, if you choose to start here, do not proceed on the assumption that Entreri and Jarlaxle will behave as they do in PotWK or RotP. I built my fanfics on SotS, and I took these characters forward on one possible road they could have chosen. Some of what I did bears a resemblance to what RAS did, and the rest is **AU** as of 2005. So please enjoy these stories as an alternative fate for our beloved characters--a path they could have taken but one RAS didn't choose to explore. A dramatis personae has been included at the end of the chapter for those who want a refresher or those who wish to start with this story.

* * *

**The Power of Prophecy: Premonition**

By Ariel

_Description: Story 7. While Nyx furthers her training, Entreri, Jarlaxle, and Tai have an unexpected brush with the paranormal. _

Disclaimer: Artemis Entreri and all other recognizable characters belong to R.A. Salvatore and Wizards of the Coast. No challenge to the copyright is intended or should be inferred. The following story is just for the amusement of the fans and will never make any profit.

A/N: This story almost qualifies as a stand-alone, and it acts as an entr'acte, or interlude, between Descent into Darkness and the bulk of Power of Prophecy. It sets up the themes of the Prophecy trilogy, however, so I'm counting it as the first part of the series.

All quotes from Entreri and Jarlaxle at the beginning of chapters are the property of R.A. Salvatore and are quoted from his short stories or novels.

**PROLOGUE**

20th of Mirtul, 1369 DR

"_There will only be one last time."—A.E., PotWK_

Graceful mountain peaks arched across the horizon like a pouncing leopard, with towering cumulus clouds breaking the golden morning light and creating the mountains' coat of dark spots. A forest of blue pines raced up the mountain sides, giving the peaks a bluish cast, and to Tai Vatoshie's recently recovered eyes, the sight was breathtaking. The entire morning was a symphony of life, with the cheerful calls of bobwhites and answering mixed songs of mockingbirds. The sweet scent of jasmine and honeysuckle perfumed the air, and recent rains had cleared the humidity, leaving a clean breeze to rush through Tai's shoulder-length hair.

Spring was now fading into summer, but even the heat could not dent Tai's joy: joy over his healed eyes, lingering satisfaction in Mordecai's defeat a month earlier, and most of all, happiness to be with his friends. And now that Tai was better, he and his friends were setting out on a new venture. Jarlaxle, Nyx, Entreri, and the priest had paid a wizard to teleport them to the Greypeak Mountains so that Nyx could spend several days at the secluded monastery there. Her objective was to finish her training in the art of self-healing before the group made their way down Dawn Pass Trail toward Waterdeep. And, as per Jarlaxle's personality, the process of separating from the monk had become a drama.

"How will we ever survive without your beauty to gaze upon!" the outrageous drow exclaimed, throwing one ring-laden hand up to his chest in mock horror.

Nyx Jassan, however, wasn't fooled by the drow's antics. Her brown eyes—so rare in hue when matched with her crown braid of auburn hair—sparkled with mirth. "I'm sure you'll survive. After all, you'll immerse yourself in a gaggle of barmaids in the next town you enter."

Jarlaxle laughed heartily at Nyx's double entendre, and Entreri also snorted with laughter, momentarily dispelling his characteristic scowl. With the amusement lighting his dark grey eyes, Entreri seemed to Tai even more robust than when the priest had first met him. His black hair, which was tied back into a ponytail, shone in the sunlight, setting off a kaleidoscope of colors. Even his skin's faint grey pallor had receded due to the tan he'd gained during their journey.

"Whatever your exploits may be," Nyx continued once Jarlaxle's laughter died down, "I'm more concerned about your looking after our troublesome priest than how you'll get along without me." The monk winked at Tai to show she was teasing.

"I assure you, we will keep Tai out of trouble," Jarlaxle said.

"Because you are so good at staying out of trouble yourself," Entreri quipped.

"Exactly," the monk said, fighting and failing to keep a stern frown on her face. "I better find a happy, healthy priest when I return!"

Tai smiled at Nyx's sisterly concern, but he knew that he himself was looking much better than he had in two months or more. Nyx had trimmed the wild ends from his hair, causing it to fall easily about his shoulders, and he had regained some of his lost weight, which fortunately meant that his pants no longer tried to fall off his hips. With his tan and the royal blue cloak Entreri had given him, the priest felt more like himself than he had since Mordecai had first crossed his path.

Entreri had raised an eyebrow at Tai. "I would argue that our priest is capable of taking care of himself, given the damage he did to Mordecai, but then again, he did manage to kill himself in the process."

The gruff words, which would sound like an insult to most others, betrayed to Tai the friendship that was growing between him and the assassin. The priest felt an expansive grin spread across his face, one so big it revealed his teeth and hurt his cheeks. "Oh, I don't plan to kill myself again any time soon. Someone has to patch up your wounds the next time you shove a sword through a holy mirror."

Entreri smirked and glanced at the new sword hanging at his side, one he'd taken from the treasure room at the ruins of the saurian temple. "It is a bother to replace the sword," he muttered.

Tai laughed, suspecting Entreri hadn't finished bonding with his new weapon.

"I think Tai is more concerned about you than your blade," Jarlaxle said with a smile that suggested much Entreri-teasing was soon to come.

The assassin shot Jarlaxle a warning glare, but Nyx ignored them both and stepped up to Tai, giving him a big hug. Her arms felt strong around his shoulders, but Tai was shocked at how small she seemed as he returned her embrace. Also, he couldn't miss the way that her chest—

Tai firmly stomped the thought, but when Nyx released him, he still fought to keep the blush from his face. Since Nyx was eight years older than he—almost the same age as Tai's only sister—the priest rarely stopped to think about her womanly charms, but when they were pressed up against him, he couldn't exactly ignore them.

"I'm just glad you're better," Nyx said, smiling at him. "Now take care of these idiots," she added, winking at him once more. She said farewell to the mercenaries, then headed up the path that would take her to the monastery.

Entreri watched her leave, but Tai wasn't quite sure what his expression suggested. Jarlaxle, however, was grinning wickedly at Tai, and the priest braced himself.

The elf glided over to Tai and put his arm around his shoulders. Removing his floppy hat and holding it to his chest, Jarlaxle gave the priest one of his most innocent smiles. "So tell me, my friend. How would you feel about meeting a few women in the next town?"

The blush that Tai had fought away suddenly exploded across his face, burning his cheeks and racing across his nose. "If I decide to court someone, I'll approach her on my own," he quickly replied, stepping out from under the elf's embrace.

Entreri snorted. "That sounds hauntingly familiar."

With a quick snap of his wrist, Jarlaxle popped his hat back upon his head. "Well, I have been telling you that the boy should call himself Entreri Junior."

"And I told you that I'd soon be cutting out your tongue and using it for a tassel," Entreri replied.

The drow laughed. "Now, now. I'm merely suggesting that Tai take short time away from his holy mission to acquaint himself with a lovely woman."

The priest felt the heat of his blush all the way to his neck, but a second feeling joined his embarrassment—one that erupted in his stomach like black lava, burning through his abdomen and stealing his good-natured patience with Jarlaxle's teasing. He frowned at the dirt road beneath his feet as a thought stole into his mind: _The anticipation I felt over my first relationship is gone now. Is this fear I feel?_ Tai shook his head, unsure what the tense knot of feelings suggested, but he did know that the rape was responsible for this new pain.

Entreri and Jarlaxle had been trading quips and had apparently failed to notice Tai's reaction, so the priest pulled himself together and forced a smile. "Are we going to stand in the road all day, or are we going to get Jarlaxle to a bar where he can . . . uh . . . refresh his thirst?"

The drow laughed.

"We'll get Jarlaxle to a bar," Entreri answered. "Sooner rather than later, in fact, so we may be spared some of his lecherous dialogue."

Tai's smile became a touch more heartfelt at the assassin's dry reply, but the drow in question looked even more energized than before.

"Let us go and find trouble, shall we?" Jarlaxle chirped.

* * *

Four hours later, the companions saw the first sign of civilization. Since the monastery was hidden away in the mountains, the group had traveled down a small dirt road—more of a footpath, really—for miles before intersecting with Dawn Pass Trail. They had hoped to stay in the town of Llorkh during Nyx's training, but to their relief they had found a small village situated closer to the mountains. 

"What good fortune!" Jarlaxle exclaimed at the sight of the thatch roofs in the small valley below them. "A place to rest and dine, and perhaps a sip of wine and at least one comely woman." He grinned at Tai.

The priest shook his head, but the elf saw the trace of mirth in the boy's eyes. Even Jarlaxle had been quiet during Tai's recovery, offering Nyx reassurances and not teasing Entreri for his attention to the lad. The drow himself had been concerned over Tai's recuperation, equally for business and personal reasons, and he was pleased to see Tai healed. However, he suspected that some of the priest's emotional wounds would plague him for months, maybe even years, to come. At those thoughts, Jarlaxle glanced at Entreri, the silent presence at Tai's side.

_Unless our cold, stoic assassin intervenes,_ Jarlaxle mused. _And perhaps he will. He's more human by the month._

Yet the drow set all those observations aside as they entered the village, which bustled with noontime activity. Contrary to the imposing wall that protected the settlement, the interior presented such quaint sights as potted roses and creeping ivy to decorate the storefronts along the town's main thoroughfare. However, the people who strolled from store to store, carrying baskets and laughing together, began to stop and stare as they noticed Jarlaxle. A rush of whispers and gasps soon filled the air, with some villagers going so far as to drop their hands to their weapons' belts. No one approached, though, so Jarlaxle ignored them and focused on the aroma of baking bread and stew. His nose more than anything led him to the village inn, which announced itself as The Crow's Nest via a newly painted red and black sign.

"A nice little town," Tai commented absently, "although we seem to have caused a stir."

"The tavern looks promising," Entreri replied in a more practical vein. "And no one's tried to draw a sword on Jarlaxle yet."

Grinning over the assassin's unrelenting no-nonsense attitude, the drow in question opened the tavern door. "But the real entertainment will be getting them to serve us dinner."

Entering the dim coolness of the room, Jarlaxle glanced around at the rough hewn tables and the dark walnut floors and walls. The establishment seemed a fine reprieve from the midday heat, and the drow smiled as he and his companions walked toward the bar. However, when the patrons realized a drow stood in their midst, the tranquil atmosphere evaporated into shrieks and yells.

"Get out!" screamed one of the barmaids. "Get out, now!"

Expecting the reaction, Jarlaxle raised both arms slowly, showing his hands were empty and revealing his apparent lack of weapons. "Do not be alarmed, good people. I am no evil drow come to your village seeking destruction and pillage; I only wish a drink and a meal."

Entreri and Tai had taken subtle defensive positions at Jarlaxle's sides, although neither drew any weapons.

The barkeep was shaking his head frantically. "No, no. You don't understand! Your intentions are irrelevant. The prophecy says that the drow who enters our village in broad daylight will be the one to release The Seal. Please, sir, leave immediately! We have a peaceful life here and don't wish to lose it."

The prophecy? The seal? Jarlaxle frowned, unsure what to make of the unusual request. "I assure you, I have no desire to break any magical seals."

"You don't have to do so intentionally," the barkeep insisted in a pleading voice. "Please, sir. If the seal is broken, a horde of allips will be released to terrorize the land. If you are not evil, as you claim, leave the area at once."

Tai grasped Jarlaxle's arm and squeezed it in a half-warning, half-comforting way. "Let's leave. We won't find a meal here today."

Entreri scowled, but the drow agreed with Tai, for he truly did not wish a fight. With a tip of his hat and a smile, Jarlaxle turned and left the tavern, his human companions quick to follow.

"What foolishness," Entreri spat as they returned to the road and made their way out of the village.

"Perhaps," Tai said, "but there might indeed be a prophecy in this area."

"A prophecy concerning a horde of allips?" Jarlaxle shook his head. "Allips are solitary monsters. A horde is unlikely."

"Allips?" Entreri repeated dryly. "Doesn't sound particularly scary."

Jarlaxle wagged one finger at him. "Don't prejudge. Allips are undead creatures who were driven mad in life, and they single-mindedly seek vengeance for their pain. Those who are assaulted by allips are often driven mad as well, or they succumb to confusion or lose their will to fight."

Entreri narrowed his eyes. "Sounds terrifying," he amended, his voice equally dry.

Jarlaxle chuckled. "Glad to see you will be ready for the challenge—being incorporeal, they are difficult to defeat."

The assassin merely smirked.

"You speak as though you will release the allips," Tai said, not sharing his friends' amusement. "Don't do that—it's bad luck. Besides, I feel a sense of foreboding."

"Foreboding like the villagers felt? You both assume much. After all, for all the villagers know, I have already released this magical seal," Jarlaxle pointed out. "Or I might as I leave. What, then, would their fear accomplish?"

"Nothing," the priest replied. "But even if their prophecy is merely an old tale and has no truth to it, they would still not be safe."

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, prompting Tai to continue.

"Many prophecies are self-fulfilling," the priest explained. "Our—your—presence alone might spark some violence that would raze the town as surely as any monster."

Entreri snorted, but Jarlaxle nodded, seeing the wisdom of the claim. "Indeed," the drow said. "Well, I believe Lorkh is not too far from here. We should arrive there in two hours and have our fill of food. The only thing we must do is ensure I do not break any seals!"

Entreri sighed and gestured toward the trees which once again surrounded them. "How would you? Everywhere we've been for the last several months has had nothing but endless trees. Forests and more forests! Winding deer trails, overgrown brush—for once I can say I'll be honestly glad to see the ocean. At any rate, unless the magical seal is in a tree, I'd say we are safe."

Jarlaxle laughed and skipped a few feet further down the road before turning back to face his companions. "Artemis Entreri manages to give commentary on nature! Surely the world shall now end."

"I wonder if your skin would make a decent rug," the assassin said darkly.

Tai, who still appeared troubled over the prophecy, interrupted their daily sparing match. "If Lorkh is really two hours from here, we should stop and at least have a small snack. We have enough rations for that, and it is already past time for us to dine."

Jarlaxle wrinkled his nose. "I am truly weary of our hard, tasteless food."

Entreri ignored him and led the companions off the road and into a clearing. Tai followed close behind, already rummaging through his belt pack for his rations, and the drow took up the rear, wandering over to a small boulder and sitting with a yawn.

The elf dramatically threw wide one hand, his mood still mischievous despite the earlier set back. "Why whatever can we do to—" He stopped abruptly, jerking his other hand up to examine it. "What an unfriendly rock," he said, growing at once serious as he noted the cut. "All I did was—"

Again, Jarlaxle was interrupted, this time by a loud cracking sound that scared all the birds from the trees. Like the snap of a bow, the rock split in two, unceremoniously dumping the drow onto the ground.

"Apparently I should choose my boulders with more care," Jarlaxle said dryly.

Entreri laughed at him. "It couldn't bear the weight of your oversized ego."

Tai, however, was not laughing. He leaned over the broken pieces and pointed to the weather-worn engraving which was now clearly exposed on one side. "I think this was a monument of some sort."

Jarlaxle felt a brick plummet into his gut, all vestiges of his good mood killed. Perhaps he should have taken the prophecy more seriously. Wiping the remaining blood off his hand, he focused on the inscription:

_"With this monument, we, the citizens of Withey Township, seal the souls of the 26 sons and daughters, wives and husbands driven mad during Turrin's Seige. While their tortured spirits forever hath our love, we beseech thy holy power, Helm, to contain their wrath forevermore.—20th of Mirtul, 873 DR"_

Jarlaxle grimaced. "Lovely."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** _

Jarlaxle just wouldn't be Jarlaxle if he wasn't getting himself in trouble. Anyway, thank you to any who read and review. I apologize in advance for any long pauses between updates.

For those of you who need a refresher or are joining us for the first time, here's the character development from the first 6 stories.

**Dramatis Personae:**

**Artemis Entreri:** in the two series prior to this one, our beloved assassin has developed a friendship with Jarlaxle, Tai, and Nyx. He realizes his former life was empty, and he has recognized that having friends helps fill the void, although he's not particularly overt about it. His friendship with Jarlaxle is evening out, and he feels protective of Tai. He admires Nyx's spirit and realizes she's attracted to him. Entreri remains a basically stoic man with sharp wit; he also still works as a mercenary.

**Jarlaxle:** over the course of the past six stories, Jarlaxle has realized his care for Entreri is real and has begun to understand the human concept of friendship, which means he's slowly lessened his manipulation of others. He wants to build a surface empire that is completely separate from Menzoberranzan, effectively leaving behind his prior life, and he sees his new friends as part of that process. Jarlaxle remains a free-spirited, witty, clever, and dangerous dark elf with overdramatic tendencies and wild taste in clothing.

**Tai Vatoshie:** an original character who entered in story three, Tai is a seventeen-year-old cleric of Hoar, the god of poetic justice and retribution. Having defeated the angry and bitter attitude of his childhood, Tai became a kind, wise youth who seeks to help the downtrodden find justice. In the previous series, Tai was raped by a drow named Mordecai, who vented his anger at Entreri by hurting Tai instead. Tai struggled with his religious faith and a second bout of anger, but he didn't give into bitterness. With the help of Nyx and Entreri, not to mention Hoar, Tai overcame his anger and returned to his faith, though he's a touch more cynical and distrusting than before. His relationship with Entreri is defined by brotherly love, and he looks up to Entreri as a strong person. His relationship with Jarlaxle is defined by the slow rebuilding of trust, which was shattered on the night Tai was raped.

**Nyx Jassan:** an OC who entered in story four, Nyx is a twenty-five-year-old monk who also follows Hoar. Drawn to Hoar's creed because of her father's murder by bandits, Nyx seeks to help the weak and victimized. Defined by her wish to help and protect others, Nyx finds herself drawn to people even though her training as a monk prepared her to live alone. She's furiously protective of Tai and is attracted to Entreri practically against her will. She finds Jarlaxle an enigma and doesn't entirely trust him, but she (mostly) enjoys his sense of humor and has begun to trade jokes with him.


	2. Chapter 1

"When did you so assume to manipulate me?"

"Manipulate?" Jarlaxle gave a little laugh. "Why, my friend, is that not the nature of our relationship? Mutual manipulation for personal gain?"

"Is it?"--AE to Jarlaxle, PotWK

**CHAPTER ONE**

The instant the boulder cracked in two, the sunshine found itself under attack. Tai, having read the damning inscription, straightened and watched as a bank of black clouds rushed across the sky, assaulting from all four directions so that the shrinking blue expanse became a small hole above their heads before being swallowed completely. Since he'd never seen clouds behave in such a way, the priest was spooked enough to find the hairs on his arms standing up. The transformation was sudden and complete as the black clouds bunched above him and his companions, throwing the clearing into a mass of rolling shadows and letting loose bolts of searing lightning and gale-force winds.

The sense of impending danger and evil in the air encased Tai like a cold veil, and the darkness seemed to bend forward, leaning over the small group like a crushing wave. Preparing to cast a spell, Tai touched the emblem of Hoar sewn onto his cloak. Entreri drew his trademark dagger and new sword, and Jarlaxle stood up and kept his eye on the broken seal.

From beneath the split boulder, a pale green mist seeped from the earth to taint the clearing, bringing with it a mildewed, rotting smell. Jarlaxle jumped clear, drawing one of his many wands, and the group watched as the mist was blackened by a thick shadow that slipped from the wreckage to grow before them. The shadow condensed into a human form, revealing a skeletal face, its features distorted by horror. Emaciated arms reached toward the drow, fingers crooked like claws, but beneath the thin chest, the body trailed into vapor. From the twisted mouth came a moan, and then the undead creature rushed toward Jarlaxle, its gaze filled with a knifing anger.

Jarlaxle sent a bolt of lightning through the creature, but it paused only briefly. "Attack with magic or enchanted weapons only!" the drow yelled.

The allip's whispered babbling filled the air with eerie promises of torture and death as the monster attacked the drow, flailing its arms as though it meant to bludgeon him to death. Even as Jarlaxle counterattacked with a second bolt of lightning, another allip drifted up from the broken seal, followed quickly by two more. Entreri engaged one of the creatures while Tai drew the attention of another.

As the allip turned on him, the priest invoked Hoar's power with a simple prayer, then slashed his fingers across the mangled hand that grasped for him. The spell was one that would open bloody gashes on a living opponent, but the incorporeal creature only grew stronger, trying to beat Tai's head with both fists. The priest jumped clear, cursing himself as he remembered that this prayer had a reverse effect on the undead. Drawing his new magical dagger, which had been chosen from the saurian treasure room, Tai fell into a defensive stance and awaited the allip's next attack.

With a quick glance across the clearing, Tai saw Entreri slash through his attacker with both sword and dagger, each swipe leaving trails of vapor in the air, almost as though the allip had smoke for blood. Jarlaxle, who fought the final two monsters, had a wand in each hand, and even as Tai glanced his way, he sprayed one with acid. However, the priest didn't have the chance to see the effect because his own attacker rushed him.

The allip swung its arms like clubs, and the gesture seemed all the more inhuman when paired with its ceaseless insane babbling. The monster's appendages were comprised of vapor, so the creature couldn't physically harm the priest. However, Jarlaxle's warnings about madness and confusion rang in Tai's mind, reminding him that the allip's touch could cause a fate worse than a bruise or contusion.

Tai countered the monster's attacks with his new dagger, which discharged bolts of blinding white electricity from its blade as it passed through the allip. The allip shrieked painfully, the magic hurting it when the steel couldn't, but the screams only interrupted its babbling for a moment. Then the whispers returned, passing through grey lips that didn't move with the syllables, and making the priest inexplicably lightheaded.

Unnerved by the buzz in his head, Tai struck through the monster again, emptying a second bolt of energy into its form. The allip seemed to shimmer, vapor spraying into the air, even as its whispers grew louder. The priest slashed the creature a third time, causing it to waver violently, and—

Then suddenly Entreri was strangely and abruptly standing before Tai, and the priest was looking into his eyes. Tai blinked, aware of himself again, and looked about the clearing. All four of the allips were gone, and the two mercenaries watched him with concern.

"What happened?" the priest asked.

"You defeated the allip, but then you froze in place as though dazed," Entreri said.

"Oh," Tai replied, confused.

"You must resist the babbling," Jarlaxle explained. "Their touch causes confusion and disorientation, but their ceaseless babbling is what can drive you mad."

Tai frowned, still fighting his way through his disorientation. "Why? Are there more of them?"

"Not at the moment, at least," the drow replied.

"Which is disappointing," Entreri remarked dryly. "I barely tested my new blade upon the creature before it was destroyed." He held out the sword that Jarlaxle had tagged The Black Widow, which seemed fitting given the sword's spidery inscriptions. Ancient writing covered the length of the blade in long, thin symbols like spider's legs, and two blood-hued garnets—arranged much like the hourglass shape on a black widow's back—studded the crosspiece. Of more importance was the fact that the sword's blade lethally poisoned anyone it cut, and the grey of the steel shone green in certain lights as though to testify to this quality.

"It seems to be serving you well for now," Jarlaxle commented before glancing at Tai. "What about your new dagger?"

"It worked well," Tai said, his speech still a touch slow even though his mind had begun to clear.

Jarlaxle shook his head. "Such enthusiasm!"

"Not all of us worship gold and magical items as you do," Entreri said.

The drow chuckled but seemed to otherwise ignore the jab. "Well, unless the broken seal releases more allips later in the day, it would seem that the prophesied horde is not to come. Unless, of course, one considers four a horde. Shall we continue on to the town of Llokhr?"

"Can't wait to jump into the lap of luxury?" Entreri quipped.

Jarlaxle laughed at this second double entendre of the day. "Well, we have been relegated to a great deal of cheap wine as of late, not to mention our time spent dealing with Mordecai. Endless rations! I do say, civilization calls."

"You don't think more allips will emerge and attack the village after we leave?" Tai asked, concerned for the innocent people who might be terrorized by the creatures.

"I broke the seal, and only four materialized," Jarlaxle said with a shrug. "I'm of the mind that the prophecy was somewhat, shall we say, anticlimactic."

Tai wasn't entirely convinced, and he couldn't decide if the drow found the possibility of future danger that remote or if he simply didn't care about the villagers' welfare. The priest narrowed his eyes as he watched Jarlaxle make his way back toward the road, humming as he went. Perhaps it was a combination of both. Still, no other paranormal activity was being generated by the broken seal, and the black clouds were already clearing. A cheerful beam of sunshine had even returned to light the clearing. Perhaps the old drow was correct.

With a prayer for the villagers' safety, Tai followed his companions.

* * *

Llorkh was a large town of about 3000 people situated on The Black Road, which crossed the Anauroch Desert and the Graypeak Mountains on its way toward Waterdeep. This particular section of The Black Road had been coined Dawn Pass Trial, and the travelers of the road always sighed in relief to see the bustle of Llorkh. Naïve travelers produced this sigh when realizing that a safely fortified town was within their reach, and disreputable travelers sighed with equal gusto because they were on home turf: Llorkh was a stronghold of the Zhentarim, a cabal comprised of ruthless, opportunistic merchants bent on controlling all the land between the Moonsea and the Sword Coast North. 

It was of the Zhents that Entreri thought as the three men managed to gain passage from the city guard. In fact, the group hadn't taken ten steps into the town before being passed by a caravan painted with the Zhentarim's symbol—a Z painted over a black dot.

Apparently Tai's thoughts were with Entreri's. "This town is completely under Zhent control," the priest noted quietly. "My uncle spoke often of the evils of the Zhents and the locations of their various conquests and strongholds. They've done a great deal of damage in the Dalelands, so Uncle Kassur had to execute Hoar's justice upon several of their agents."

Jarlaxle considered the priest thoughtfully. "It's a wonder your uncle did not find himself dead for his efforts."

Tai glanced at the tail end of the Zhent caravan, which was now turning a corner down the street. "He was careful. Just as we should be careful while in Llorkh."

Jarlaxle merely grinned, but Entreri scanned the streets for signs of danger. On the surface of things, however, the town seemed above-board. White-washed wooden storefronts presented a clean face to passerby, and the yells of vendors filled the air. The smell of perfumes and cured meats battled for dominance on the breeze, and wagons and caravans rumbled through the streets. Since the town rested on the banks of the River Grayflow, the streets bustled with merchant activity which entered from both the road and the waterfront. The assassin also noticed that the town was heavily fortified and its citizens all armed—a fact that did not surprise him given the Zhent activity and general untamed nature of the land.

"We need to find a luxurious inn," Jarlaxle was saying. "First rate food, fine carpets, soft beds, vintage wine . . ."

"It is a wonder you survived our trek through the wilderness," Entreri quipped.

The drow simply grinned and pointed to the brownstone building that struck a contrast to its wooden neighbors. A gilded sign announced the inn as the Rose and Crown. "That establishment looks promising! Perhaps we can get a nice room and meal there."

"Unless the inn is reserved for Zhent travelers only," Tai remarked cynically.

"Then we shall just infiltrate their ranks, seize control of their organization, and buy our passage into whichever inns we choose!" Jarlaxle replied.

Tai snorted and approached the tavern door. "A bit too much effort for a meal, isn't it?"

The drow merely laughed, and Entreri glanced at him sharply, wondering what dangerous idea had just popped into the elf's mind.

Since their entrance into the inn's dim interior wasn't met with either overt alarm or interest, the group secured two rooms and a table in short order. The tavern provided a cool and inviting interior in which to dine: two candelabra made of deer antlers hung from the ceiling, and a small fire burned in the chimney on the far side of the room. The pinewood floor was comfortably worn, but the ebony tables had legs that flared with a graceful sweep. The smell of roasting mutton, warm bread, and pipe smoke filled the air.

Supper passed without incident, and after they were finished, Tai retired to his room, leaving the two mercenaries to themselves. Entreri watched Tai climb the stairs, his mind on the way the boy continued to tire easily. Still, the assassin was confident that the priest was almost fully recovered from his brush with death.

"If you continue to train him, he will grow stronger more quickly," Jarlaxle murmured.

The assassin glanced at his companion, who was now on his third glass of wine. "I suppose," he replied noncommittally. To alleviate his own boredom, Entreri had taken to sparing with Tai during the final stage of the priest's recovery, but the matches often led to the assassin explaining the finer points of wielding a dagger. One day he had even required Tai to practice sneaking up on people from behind in preparation for fatal blows.

"You should continue to spar with him," the drow said, running his finger over the rim of his glass. "The boy already had a sneaky streak in his fighting style—I saw him backstab several orcs in one of our early fights together. With a few more tips from you, he could be a formidable ally in more ways than simply spell-casting."

Entreri shrugged. He was no teacher.

"Admit it," Jarlaxle said. "We've both seen that marked preference for daggers in other fighters, that tendency toward stealth and trickery. If he hadn't been a priest, he would have made a fine thief or assassin."

"He'll never be an assassin," Entreri snapped, oddly burned by the thought.

Jarlaxle smiled, and the man had the sensation that he was ripe for a paternal lecture, perhaps upon his friendship with Tai or perhaps upon his own recent changes.

"Stow it," the assassin said quickly, cutting off whatever the drow would have said.

Jarlaxle laughed.

"If we're going to discuss anything," Entreri said, "we're going to discuss whatever nefarious plan you were hatching as we entered town."

"I was concocting a plan?" the drow echoed, all innocence.

"Most definitely." Entreri pushed away his empty plate and leaned forward, crossing his arms upon the table. "You had that wicked gleam in your eyes—the same one you get every time you catch a whiff of power or wealth."

The drow chuckled. "I was merely reflecting on the fact that we are surrounded by opportunistic merchants in this area. If we keep an open mind, we might find ourselves availed of certain chances."

"You are dreaming of surface empires again, are you not? Can you not set aside your greed even for a short while?"

The drow feigned hurt. "I haven't tried to build any organizations during my stay here other than in Calimport. And it is not greed that motivates me." He paused. "Well, not entirely, at least."

Entreri shook his head. "Then why do it?"

"Because I cannot _not_ build organizations!" Jarlaxle exclaimed. "From my earliest memory, I've been driven to lead, to plan, to dream! It is who I am." He spread his hands. "Did you expect me to wander the surface alone forever?"

"You're not alone," Entreri pointed out.

The drow blinked at him. "Well, not literally of course."

The assassin watched his friend, struck by this flaw and the vulnerability it caused. But he wasn't the type to discuss such philosophical issues, so he pushed ahead. "Very well. If you're going to launch some kind of endeavor, at least discuss your plans with me."

"When I've formulated a plan, I will," the drow replied, picking up his glass for another sip of wine as though the conversation were finished.

"I mean _while_ you are busy dreaming your dreams," the assassin snapped. "Why do you never tell me of your plans?"

Jarlaxle shrugged. "I've rarely experienced the desire to explain myself to anyone. Not that I mind their input—for I often seek it—but where my eyes are always on the goal and the steps to reaching that goal, I find others often lack the ability to prioritize properly. So I simply share the larger vision with them so that they may be equally motivated to work."

"Except in those instances when you keep everything a secret," Entreri said, "hording away your plans and dragging your companions along behind you."

The drow chuckled, but despite his barb, the assassin was surprised by Jarlaxle's admissions. He could rarely get the elf to speak with him so.

"Trust me," was all Jarlaxle would say, and Entreri didn't push—yet. He simply nodded at him and headed up to their room, leaving the drow to flirt with the barmaids.

However, as the assassin climbed the stairs, he found the issue still foremost in his mind. What wild scheme would the drow launch next? Entreri had suspected that the empire-building streak that had made Jarlaxle the creator and leader of Bregan D'earthe would not remain long buried, so he couldn't be surprised. But would this new empire include connections to Bregan D'earthe? Surely so, considering the power of the group, but as Entreri considered his rebellious friend, he had to wonder if Jarlaxle were planning to free himself from the drow forever. Jarlaxle might opt to build an empire completely comprised of surface dwellers, especially since his band had ultimately rejected their first excursion to the surface.

Yes, it seemed likely, and as Entreri considered the way he and Jarlaxle kept picking up associates—first a priest and now a monk—he could nearly see the gears turning in the elf's brain. What kind of ally would they pick up next? At what point would Jarlaxle start forging ties with surface organizations and carving his niche? Or, rather, their niche, Entreri thought, knowing that Jarlaxle had chosen him, and even Nyx and Tai, for a reason. In Entreri's case, Jarlaxle had even gone so far as to arrange a final fight between him and Drizzt.

Entreri frowned. Almost a year earlier, upon overhearing Jarlaxle's talk with Kimmuriel, the assassin had wondered whether Jarlaxle's attempts to "help" him were the result of the drow needing a different kind of future front man. Since that time, Entreri had recognized Jarlaxle's intentions as partly those of a genuine, if overly nosey, friend. Now, though, he reaffirmed that the drow's actions were also based in mutual benefit.

The assassin felt his brow furrowing as he considered that truth. On one hand, he acknowledged that he'd also used their friendship—most notably to procure the now defunct Charon's Claw. On the other hand, Entreri was unsettled. Despite their mercenary natures, Entreri had twice struck out at Jarlaxle for the acquisition-based nature of his "friendship," once over his pejorative discussion with Kimmuriel and once when Tai was abducted by Socor. He wasn't entirely sure why it angered him, why he felt betrayed. The assassin believed himself to be too logical and practical to react in such a way, yet he felt that emotion a third time now at the thought he might still be more a tool than a friend. Jarlaxle's apology over his latest manipulation helped stem the anger, but the assassin found himself wanting proof that he was more than a mere asset.

As soon as Entreri realized his own feelings, he was stunned by them—unable to figure out why he cared and uncomfortably aware that he had discovered within himself some nameless need left unexplored. Yet even as he turned away from the thoughts, he knew he would have to deal with it eventually.

* * *

Tai stared at the blank parchment before him, trying to convince himself once again to begin writing the letter. The priest had been pleasantly surprised by the inn's accommodations: two beds with plump feather pillows, an ornately carved ebony vanity table, and even a small ebony desk. The desk had reminded him of one of his personal duties—writing monthly letters to his family—and he'd welcomed the chance to do so. Or at least he had at first. Half an hour had passed, and the priest had yet to write a single word. Instead, he found his attention straying to his new weapon, the magical stiletto dagger, and the effect it had had upon the allip. 

Giving in to his impulses, Tai drew the weapon and studied it. Like Entreri, the priest had searched the saurian treasure for weapons after he'd recovered from his blindness, and he'd found a dagger much like the ones he already carried. The difference, however, was that this dagger had a vorpal enchantment which caused it to empty bolts of electricity into opponents. The blade, which was cast in fine steel, shown like pure silver, and the hilt was gold-plated, providing a beautiful contrast. A curving vine pattern had been etched into the blade, while a single emerald glittered in the crosspiece. The gem, which matched the one in Entreri's dagger, had set Jarlaxle off on more "Entreri Junior" jokes.

"Junior" . . . And Tai's thoughts betrayed him again, returning him to the subject of his family and the letter he wasn't writing. He stowed the dagger with a sigh and picked up his quill, determined to make progress. After he'd left home, Tai had written his parents and surviving two siblings once a month; however, over the past year, he'd missed several months. His family had faithfully continued mailing letters to his uncle for safekeeping, and more recently—at Tai's request—they'd mailed the letters to Nyx's great uncle in Olostin's Hold. One such letter had arrived last month during Tai's recovery, and the priest knew it was one of many, for his mother would keep up the steady stream of news about his father, brother, and sister, and his sister would be writing about her progressing pregnancy.

Tai clutched his quill tightly as he stared at the blank parchment before him. With the months spent fighting Mordecai finally over, Tai had lain in his sickbed and realized just how much he missed his family. Not just his uncle, but his sister Kisa, who was 24 and married. She always wrote the longest letters and passed on endless encouragement and advice to him.

But now Tai feared a growing gap between his sister and him—not one created by their age gap or physical distance, but one created by his recent experiences. In fact, the priest worried such a gap would form between his entire family and him. Tai felt he'd never be able to tell his parents that he'd been raped; the familial logic that assured him they would still love him could not dismiss his shame and fear. Would they blame him? No, surely not! Would he seem weak in his father's eyes? It was a question Tai couldn't face. The stoic farmer had always been a bastion of strength, rugged and no-nonsense, tied to the here-and-now. Although he loved Tai, he hadn't understood his youngest child's quiet, scholarly ways. Upon learning of the rape, would his father see him as a helpless weakling? Would he react to Tai's pain as he had treated Tai's childhood injuries, saying "Act like a man!" or "Suck it up, boy!"

Tai set down the quill and buried his face in his hands. The question wasn't any easier as it concerned Kisa. Although the priest was confident that his sister would never judge him, she would be agonized by the news. If he asked her not to tell their parents, she would burn with misery over the secret. It wasn't the type of thing he wanted to burden her with, especially since she had her first baby on the way!

No, Tai could not tell any of his family what had happened, not even Uncle Kassur. He would not burden them with the pain, and he couldn't risk their censure or pity. So his attempt to resume his monthly letter-writing campaign was met with mixed feelings because, even as he wished to stay connected with his family, he couldn't reveal to them this event which had shattered his world.

With a sigh that seemed to pass his entire soul out through his mouth, Tai picked up the quill once again, dipping it into the small ink jar and setting it to the paper. _20 Mirtul 1369_ he began, the quill making scratching sounds against the thick parchment. _Dear Kisa, I am writing you from the town of Llorkh, in which my friends and I—_

Tai jumped at a rustling from the corner of his room, making a wild random mark across his letter. "Blast," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder to ascertain the cause of the sound. Nothing. With a second sigh, the priest faced the parchment again and decided the random mark wouldn't spoil the letter. However, before he could begin again, the flame of the desk lamp fluttered. He glanced up and watched with a frown as the shadows in the corners of the room swelled, bleeding darkness down the walls. A faint whispering filled the air, words of torture and death.

The priest jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair in his haste, and drew his enchanted dagger. A trail of vapor hung above the floor boards, but Tai didn't see the allip. The sudden whisper was in his ear, though, and even as the priest tried to jump clear, he felt a sharp coldness in his shoulder where the allip had apparently tried to strike him.

At the touch, Tai stumbled forward, momentarily confused. The room seemed to spin about him, a tornado of darkness, but the priest retained enough sense to slash out with his dagger. A brilliant flash lit the room as the weapon released its energy, and an agonized scream tore at Tai's ears. A contorted face with black eye sockets seemed to press in at him, so the priest struck out again and again, his swings clumsy. Strangled shrieks vibrated through the floorboards, and then suddenly Tai found the side of his face resting against the cool floor, his dagger still glowing in his hand. How had he ended up there? He didn't remember falling.

The door burst open, and Tai had a strange sideways view of Entreri's boots rushing toward him. Strong hands grasped his shoulder and pulled him into a sitting position. A scowling face entered Tai's line of vision.

"Are you all right?" the assassin asked.

"Peachy," Tai croaked, feeling a silly grin on his face.

Entreri looked grim. "I gather you were attacked by an allip."

The sound of running footsteps turned Tai's attention to the door as Jarlaxle entered the room.

"Were you two attacked as well?" he asked a bit breathlessly.

Tai cocked his head and considered the limp feather in the drow's hat and the odd angle at which the hat rested on his head. "Lose your hat?" he asked, then considered that Jarlaxle had likely just done battle. "Can elves sweat?"

Entreri and Jarlaxle traded glances, presumably over Tai's seemingly unrelated comments. Tai shook his head as if trying to awaken himself.

"Obviously, Tai was attacked," Entreri said. "But I wasn't."

"You weren't attacked?" Tai repeated, surprised. The world was slowly making more sense again. "Why would one attack Jarlaxle and me but not you?"

"Perhaps the allips feel that Artemis is already mad," Jarlaxle said lightly.

"Or perhaps the allips are drawn to madness in others and therefore left me alone," Entreri replied.

Tai found their banter unusually funny and began laughing. The assassin sighed, yanking the priest to his feet and ushering him over to his bed.

"Sit," Entreri said.

Tai sat.

"It would seem that the allips aren't finished with us yet, after all," Entreri said, mostly to Jarlaxle. "Our relief was premature."

"They traveled quite far in order to assault us," the drow replied.

Tai shook his head again and began to feel more like himself. "Perhaps since you broke the seal, and Artemis and I were with you at the time, the allips are lashing out at us. Or part of them are. The rest might very well have returned to Withey Township."

"We must assume we are targets," Jarlaxle said, repositioning his hat and flicking the feather into a semblance of its former self. "We will return to the seal and ascertain if a new one can be forged. Either that or we will return and destroy all the allips. Since we cannot vacate the area immediately, there are few other options at this point."

"And the villagers might also need our help," Tai pointed out. "Those people are innocent of whatever crime the allips blame their ancestors for, and they will be sorely prepared to deal with some two dozen of the monsters."

Entreri snorted, but Jarlaxle agreed with a flourish.

"We shall go and save their lives—or at least their sanity," the elf proclaimed, waving one hand through the air. "We shall be heroes in this land, ingratiating ourselves to the people and making our mark!"

Entreri punched him in the shoulder.


	3. Chapter 2

"_I do not slave for the Spider Queen. I am an opportunist."—Jarlaxle, The Legacy_

**CHAPTER TWO**

Thin, wispy clouds raced each other across the sky, accompanied by gusts of wind that whipped the feather in Jarlaxle's hat. On each side of the dusty road, the trees lashed one another with their branches, aided by the force of the wind. Given the strange weather that had accompanied the first allip attack, the sudden coolness of the day suggested to the drow that either evil forces or powerful magic were at work nearby. The observation was not comforting.

"Well, at least there are no black clouds yet," Tai remarked quietly, echoing Jarlaxle's train of thought. For most of the morning, the boy had walked in front of his companions, taking point merely out of his determination to rush back to Withey Township and offer aid. However, as the air grew thick with inexplicable tension, he'd fallen in line with the mercenaries.

"There will be," Entreri said. "Excessive use of magic, especially dark magic, seems to invite storms."

Jarlaxle glanced at his friend, surprised by his keen observation on a topic he seemed to despise: sorcery. "A druid could no doubt explain the reasons for that in more detail, but the short of it is that abuse of magic unbalances both the Weave and nature."

"Then by the feel of it, we're walking straight into a battlefield," Tai said. "We should hurry." The priest sprinted forward, but Entreri caught him by the shoulder, stopping him.

"Don't be a fool," Entreri snapped. "If you're misguided enough to endanger yourself for others, the least you can do is approach cautiously so you're not killed before you can carry out your act of heroism."

Jarlaxle grinned at the assassin, pleased with this new example of his revolutionary behavior. Entreri caught the look and glowered at him in return.

"I thought you promised to keep your overly long nose out of others' business," he hissed, stalking away to take point.

Jarlaxle was surprised by Entreri's abrupt anger, but he laughed. "I didn't speak a single word!"

Tai looked back and forth between the mercenaries. "What was that about?"

But Jarlaxle didn't answer at first; he simply followed the assassin's lead from a distance of about ten feet. He frowned to himself, knowing his earlier assurances to Entreri had been sincere and feeling not at all sure about what had provoked the man. Did it have to do with their conversation the night before? Had Jarlaxle's refusal to discuss his fledging plans made Entreri feel manipulated again?

The drow sighed. It was a problem. Frankly, the idea of manipulation being wrong was not one he'd ever considered—and still didn't—but in the past few months with Entreri the drow had accepted that he could push too far. Now he felt himself pulled between two competing notions, a situation which was rare for the mercenary. On one hand, the call of profit and mutual benefit encouraged him to push and pull people in the direction necessary to achieve both his goals and their mutual desires. On the other hand, that odd compassion—that need for friendship and streak of joy which arched through the drow's dark soul like a shooting star—caused him to ease back on the reins of control. What balance could he strike between business and companionship? How could he keep command, be the leader, and yet still respect his friends' boundaries?

Jarlaxle had ever been a creature of opportunity, never a slave to his society or its goddess. And as someone who thought outside the bounds of his culture, the drow had also always been a creature of empathy—one who survived by understanding the needs and desires of everyone around him. He felt sure he would find the answer even as he encouraged his growing band of compatriots toward higher goals.

Tai was staring at the drow. "He seemed angry at you," he prompted.

Jarlaxle blinked and smiled. "Artemis doesn't favor my style of friendly support."

A snort wafted back to meet the elf's ears, but Entreri didn't turn around.

"At any rate, Artemis is correct," Jarlaxle continued. "Although we should return to the village as quickly as possible, we must be careful in our approach."

Tai frowned at him. "Fair enough. But I have to say that paranoia seems to be a way of life for you."

Jarlaxle grinned. "It's a way of life for the drow!" He waved a finger through the air. "To be paranoid is to survive, my young friend!"

The priest studied Jarlaxle for several long moments without speaking. "In that case, perhaps I should take you up on your earlier offer."

"What offer would that be?"

"To tell me the story of Tebryn Pharn so that I can better understand the drow."

At Tai's words, Jarlaxle paused on the dusty road, surprised by how quickly the images of his long-ago past asserted themselves at the mere mention of a name. Or at least the memories of the tiny weapon master that the young Jarlaxle had towered over—a drow that grinned easily when the two of them were alone, but frowned unrelentingly when outside of his own quarters. Jarlaxle remembered the silver hair drawn into a severe ponytail and the magenta eyes that glittered with mirth. The tiny black hand that dared to squeeze Jarlaxle's shoulder in affection.

Tai had paused beside the drow and was now giving him a curious expression, so Jarlaxle resumed walking. "Very well. Just as I promised, I would be happy to tell you the story." He chose his words carefully, wanting the story to make sense but not desiring to give away too much about himself or his origins. "In Menzoberranzan, noble sons have one of two fates," he began, omitting the third possible fate, "to be trained as either warriors or wizards. More are trained as warriors, however, and such was my training. Almost without exception, the weapon master of the House initially trains the fighters, then they proceed to Melee Magthere, the fighters' academy."

"Such intensive training doesn't surprise me, given the reputation of the drow," Tai said.

The mercenary nodded in agreement. "At the time, the weapon master of my House was a noble drow the Matron had acquired from outside the family." Jarlaxle left the details vague and avoided names in order to keep his unusual circumstances the mystery they had always been. "As it turns out, having Tebryn Pharn as my trainer was a stroke of luck. Tebryn thought like no other drow I'd met before. He—quietly—questioned every order, 'fact,' and 'truth' put to him. Why should drow hate surface elves? Why should males be second class citizens? " Jarlaxle smiled at the memory and glanced at the open fields on his left and the forest on his right, knowing that the mere idea that he lived under the sun was blaspheme in Lolth's eyes.

Tai frowned, striping a leaf from a tree as he passed and folding it in a distracted manner, almost as though he would take out his distress on the plant. "Sounds to me like young drow are brainwashed."

Entreri, who still walked ten feet in front of them, glanced back at the pair, apparently catching the mercenary's words. He halted, allowing the others to catch up to him.

"They are," Jarlaxle answered lightly, smiling briefly at Entreri as they drew parallel. "But the method didn't entirely work on Tebryn. I suppose he was too curious—or maybe too innately philosophical. Every society has them—males or females who reach past the assumptions and customs of their time. Yet for all of Tebryn's questions, he outwardly seemed like any other drow, playing his role with chilling accuracy. In fact, I'm not sure to this day what he saw in me that made him air his thoughts. He certainly didn't have a history of training previous warriors to question." The drow chuckled. "Although if he had, he wouldn't have been alone in his efforts. I later met and befriended a weapon master who did try to make an impact on the impressionable children around him—especially his own."

Entreri looked sharply at Jarlaxle and glared, no doubt suspecting a reference to Drizzt. Jarlaxle smiled to himself, curious as to what the assassin made of the comment.

"Sounds like a man—I mean, drow—worth befriending," Tai murmured, releasing his folded leaf to float away on the breeze.

Jarlaxle laughed, taking the double-edged comment in stride. "Indeed. As I was saying, Tebryn took a special interest in me. The first step on his path to ultimate damnation was that he allowed me to think for myself. The second thing he did was point out the way the first Matron Mother maintained control by keeping everyone's eyes on mutual threats such as Blingdenstone. Mutual enemies, mutual fear, and mutual hatred." The drow smiled widely. "Brilliant."

Tai shook his head. "Darkly brilliant, I agree, but a sad state to live in."

Jarlaxle stopped and tilted his head, regarding the priest. "Is it? Kings and queens of surface empires do the same—holding together their nations by focusing the citizens' attention on a common outside enemy. In fact, they move their citizens to acts of violence and war using such tactics."

Tai had paused and faced the drow, a momentary wry grin gracing his lips. "I didn't say it didn't work well, but its efficiency doesn't make it any less evil or sad."

Jarlaxle tipped his hat to the priest and resumed walking. "Tebryn's observations on drow tactics weren't lost on me, I assure you. As a result of his comments, I studied how the sons and daughters within House vied for power and the matron mother built networks. What I soon realized became one of the mantras of my existence: 'To attain power is to defeat your opponents. To maintain power is to build a network. All those who surround you must require your presence; if they cannot do without you, they will be less likely to move against you.'"

"The manipulation of mutual need or desire through the promise of mutual benefit," Tai paraphrased.

"Exactly!" the drow replied, holding his arms wide.

Entreri snorted. "Except that Jarlaxle's half of the mutual agreement is always more important, and Jarlaxle is always the one in control of the relationship."

The mercenary grinned. "Of course! That is what has kept me alive all these centuries."

"And rich and comfortable and well-feed," Entreri added.

Jarlaxle extended one ring-laden hand in gesture that said _"naturally,"_ and the sunlight reflected off those gold bands and shiny gems.

But Tai had halted dead in his tracks. "What is my benefit to you?" he asked bluntly.

Entreri flinched, as though unsettled by the priest's guileless tactic, but Jarlaxle turned to face Tai with a smile.

"You're the Chosen of Hoar," the drow answered just as bluntly. "In the not-so-distant future, you will be able to inflict damage or invoke healing upon a whole crowd of people at once. Why would I not wish to befriend someone so powerful?"

Tai looked dubious. "My god has not called me to be any such thing."

"Yet," Jarlaxle replied with a smile. "And even if I am wrong, the power and wisdom you bring to our group cannot be dismissed."

"But it can be replaced," Tai said quietly, crossing his arms.

Jarlaxle smiled faintly, recognizing that however accurate Tai's cynicism was, it indicated how much work he had to do if he were to rebuild their friendship. "The power can be replaced, but not the person," he said, hoping reassure Tai.

"When you believe your own words, I will trust you once more," the priest replied, and the declaration was spoken honestly, without a trace of anger or bitterness. He resumed walking, passing by the drow as though it were of no consequence whether the mercenary replied or joined him.

Jarlaxle swallowed a chuckle, impressed by Tai's insight and courage even as he was frustrated over slowness of his progress in winning the boy's trust. He glanced at Entreri to evaluate his response to the situation and found that his body language had grown tense as he listened to their exchange, his jaw clenched and his arms folded across his chest. Jarlaxle had an uncomfortable moment in which he realized that he'd best not ever endanger the boy.

"Try not to judge me too harshly," he called after Tai, setting aside that thought for later and skipping forward a step to fall in beside the priest. "The world I was born into,"—_And immediately died in,_ he thought—"was one far darker than even the most wretched human city. Treachery and betrayal, violence and death are the lifeblood of Menzoberranzan. To torture someone often means to flay him to the brink of death, heal him, and then torture him to the brink of death again in an endless cycle that can last for centuries."

Tai flinched at the description, his brow furrowing with revulsion.

"There is no compassion in my world"," Jarlaxle continued, "no trust, no love."

"No wonder you left," Tai said, briefly staring into the trees as though pondering the elf's words. After a pause, he continued. "How did you—or Tebryn Pharn—gather the courage to question, then?"

Jarlaxle smiled. "I guess we ultimately decided that life wasn't worth living if we couldn't reach for our dreams." He briefly glanced at Entreri, hoping to drive home the point. "And Tebryn had a deeply buried honor rarely found in drow. He took his position as weapon master seriously and never abandoned or killed a soldier unless he absolutely had to. And I respected him for it."

Tai nodded. "The best kind of leader." He paused, looking troubled, and halted once again, gazing into the drow's face. "So what happened?"

Jarlaxle gazed into the distance, but instead of seeing the hills and trees before them, he was lost in the violence and blood of the memory for several long moments. "Despite the fact we were careful, the Matron Mother realized Tebryn was 'poisoning' my mind. She warned him to stop, but he didn't. He said to me, 'I know you won't care for me when I'm gone, but I'm going to do this because I think you can achieve what I couldn't. You can realize my dream.'" The drow grew quiet for many long moments.

"What did the Matron Mother do?" Tai prompted gently.

Jarlaxle hesitated, wondering if he'd managed to say too much, reveal too much. Yet something inside of him compelled him to continue—something more than the tactical advantage of winning back a portion of Tai's trust and cooperation.

"She made me fight him before her," Jarlaxle finally replied, his voice much softer than he'd intended. He couldn't seem to gather enough force to raise it; he hadn't expected the words to be so difficult. "She told us that if I didn't honestly defeat him—thereby proving his training was effective and my skill was worthy—she would sacrifice us both to Lolth for heresy. So I defeated him—not by trick or luck, but by skill." He stopped, finding the words oddly caught in his throat. "And so she judged him too old and weak to continue as weapon master and put him to death as an example to me."

Tai and Entreri were both still and silent, and the priest's brow was furrowed. The drow shook his head at himself, shocked that recounting the old tale should have hurt him so much. Yet in his mind he saw the wry smile upon the lips of a small drow who stood some five inches shorter than he. He could clearly recall the magenta eyes that flicked a look to his student which said, "I warned you of the price." And the toss of a silver mane over a thin shoulder that telegraphed his attitude so clearly: _All you spider-kissers can just go drown in your own piss._ And Jarlaxle had watched that silver hair become matted with blood, had watched the life drain from those magenta eyes.

The drow tried to shake away the memory, but a lump had lodged itself in his throat and didn't want to leave. He chuckled at himself, the sound seeming mangled, and for a moment he was appalled for revealing such vulnerability.

But Tai tentatively touched his arm and then patted him. "After having met Mordecai, I can believe your story easily," he said quietly, "but I can't imagine having to witness such a horror—a death placed at your feet through another's twisted, evil logic."

Jarlaxle smiled at the priest, both reassured and touched in spite of himself. "Now, now. Don't grow melancholy. The story of Tebryn Pharn may end there, but mine does not. I continued to think and question, dream and plot until I created a way to rise above my station and entrench myself as surely as any Matron Mother."

Entreri stepped up to Jarlaxle's other side and grabbed his arm as though to lead him away, yet the gesture was oddly supportive. "Indeed, to this day he can still turn a pile of roethe dung into a mound of gold coins and gems by the power of his ambition and charm."

Jarlaxle laughed, and as the three men resumed walking, he had to laugh a second time. His two companions stood a fraction closer to his sides now, as though communicating unspoken encouragement, and Jarlaxle realized he did, indeed, feel better.

Friendship was a bizarre thing.

* * *

The village which had self-importantly named itself Withey Township was a deserted husk, a mask of store- and house-fronts that hid empty rooms and toppled furniture. Entreri glanced down alleyways uneasily, searching for signs of people or allips and finding nothing. The afternoon sun highlighted the barren town with stark brightness that only underscored the emptiness and silence, although as predicted earlier, a bank of dark clouds now hovered on the horizon. 

"Cheerful," Jarlaxle said, all sarcasm.

Tai looked horrified. "We're too late."

"Allips cannot kill," Entreri reminded him. "I suspect the villagers either fled or are hiding."

"We must search for clues on how to stop the onslaught," Jarlaxle said. "It must be our first priority."

"The townspeople may be hurt or hopelessly confused," Tai said, "either the victims of the allips or of the panic and chaos of the town's exodus."

"We can't help them if we're constantly under attack ourselves," Jarlaxle replied. "And they will not be helped by further attacks."

Tai sighed but seemed to concede to that logic.

"Then let's split up," Entreri said. "I'll search for clues on the western side of the village, and Tai can search the eastern half."

Jarlaxle nodded. "And I'll inspect the forest that runs along the parameters of the town. We can gather at the village inn when we're finished." He reached into one of his magic pouches and withdrew two wands, handing one to Tai and the other to Entreri. "If you find something we should all see or if you run into danger, aim the wand toward the sky and say '_chath_.' The wand will shoot a red flare into the sky, which will be our signal to converge on your location."

Tai considered the simple crimson wand with a hint of approval. "Effective. When did you get these?"

Entreri caught the trace of suspicion in the priest's voice and watched Jarlaxle's reaction with interest.

"While you were recovering your eyesight," Jarlaxle replied. "And they may be used several times, so they'll aid us for some time yet."

Tai glanced toward Entreri as though to gauge his reaction, and he nodded at him to show that Jarlaxle was currently being above board. Tai returned the nod, then headed toward the east side of the village. Entreri grinned at Jarlaxle, who merely shook his head with a knowing smile, and then without awaiting further discussion, the assassin slipped into the nearest alley and glided in the shadows between buildings.

Street by street, he examined stores and homes, looking for people, provisions, and any residence that looked to be home of a scribe, mage, or cleric. Given the small size of the village, he didn't expect much, but some minor clues offered a bit of insight. Abandoned carts and fruit stands told their stories, revealing fly-infested produce and unattended wares. Random articles of clothing, dried food, and canteens dotted the streets, as though people had carried emergency supplies in their arms and dropped them. Doors had been left wide open. The occasional cat or dog would slink past the assassin, scavenging for food. Yet Entreri had worked his way to the edge of town, almost to the town wall itself, before finding a sign of human life. Candles glowed through the window of a well-kept cottage, which was donned in ivy and a thatch roof. Without preamble, Entreri knocked on the door.

After a pause, an old man with a long white hair and a closely trimmed beard opened the door. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you," the man said with a small smile. "I saw you at the tavern yesterday, did I not? With the drow? Please come in. I'm sure you have many questions." He stepped back and waved his hand toward the room, skipping both greetings and formal introductions.

Entreri stepped inside. "You would seem to be the only villager left."

"Everyone else fled," the man replied, stiffly making his way toward a scroll-laden desk. "It won't save them. Those who fought the first wave of monsters were driven mad, and the allips will chase the rest regardless of where they flee."

"Two followed us to Lorkh."

The man nodded and began sifting through his scrolls in a distracted manner. "Since you were with the drow when he broke the seal, the allips will pursue you. They'll assume you are their enemy as well."

"But I was not attacked in Lorkh."

The old man glanced at Entreri, briefly giving him his undivided attention. "The breaker of the seal is in the most danger. As a bystander, you will be harassed, but your drow companion will not be safe until the violence has run its course. I suggest you prepare yourself for a rough night."

Entreri frowned at the man's words about Jarlaxle. "And you as well? Why did you stay here, knowing they will come for you?"

The man chuckled. "The young do not often listen to the old. I have tried for years to make my fellow villagers understand the prophecy that has haunted us for 500 years. But they ignored my warning and persisted in circulating a simplified form—one with a clear cause and effect." He sighed. "Misreading or misunderstanding a prophecy is foolish at best. In this case, it will be fatal. The prophecy was meant to save us, and we ignored it." The man shrugged his shoulders. "But to answer your question more directly, I will not run from that mistake—especially since running is useless in this case."

Entreri was getting a bad feeling. "And what, exactly, did the prophecy say?"

The old man cleared his throat. "The prophecy was more like a divine curse—a judgment Helm passed upon the town several centuries ago when our forefathers defied his will, harming and killing hundreds in the process. After the chaos subsided and justice was done, Helm looked upon the twisted souls who had become allips and told our forefathers, 'As long as your children eschew evil ways, they shall be spared the consequences of your violence and corruption. However, when men once again turn to lechery and drunkenness, pursuing their lusts and abandoning their holy duty as guardians and protectors, a drow will come in daylight and release these maddened souls from their seal, ushering in a new age of terror and death until all evil men have been punished and the land is burned clean.'"

"'A new age of terror and death?'" Entreri repeated, his sinking feeling growing worse.

"Yes, the allips are merely the first wave of monsters that will attack the village," the man said, returning his attention to searching through his scrolls. "Helm will call from the forest a second wave of monsters who will act like a plague upon this land—unless, of course, someone seals the allips away again."

"That can be done?"

"Yes. And like most magical seals, only the blood of the one who opened it can close it. The allips will try to kill your drow friend to ensure that he won't close the seal, but being incorporeal they can't succeed. The monsters that follow them can, though, and so they will continue to pursue your friend until he is dead."

Entreri felt strangely stiff and cold, almost as though he were slowly freezing to death. "I see. So we need to return to the seal and have Jarlaxle bleed on the stone again?"

"Not just that—you'll need a cleric to create a new seal from the blood." The man snatched a scroll from the bottom of his stack. "Ah, there it is!" he muttered to himself.

Entreri ignored him. A cleric? "Would the allips be able to identify a priest and attack him? Or would they also focus their attack on someone standing right beside the seal when it was broken?"

The man faced him, holding the scroll against his chest. "I'm unsure, but it is quite possible. Allips are completely mad and consumed with rage and vengeance, so anyone standing too close to the drow and the seal when it was broken might be assumed to be more worthy of revenge. Or, considering the prophecy and the curse it contains, the allips might very well be under a type of divine compulsion, if you will, which would cause them to focus more attention on attacking a priest. After all, a mad priest can't successfully create a seal."

So Tai was in an equal amount of danger, and their chances were grim. "Do we fight a god?" Entreri asked, a second wave of coldness passing through his body.

"Not as such," the man replied. "Since the sins of our forefathers were so severe, as is our current spiral into rebellion, the judgment can be delayed but not stopped. This means you can save your friend—or friends—but ultimately not the townspeople. They will have to repent and return to Helm in order to save themselves." He presented Entreri with the scroll. "This is for you. You have a priest, no? Give him this scroll—it contains the prayer necessary to create the seal."

The assassin accepted the scroll with a nod. "Thank you." He turned to leave.

"Keep your friends safe," the man called after him.

Entreri paused on the doorstep but didn't look back, struck by the irony of the request given his past life—and the conflicting emotions that irony caused. After a long pause, he replied, "I will."

"Then may Helm protect you in your blessed role as guardian," the man said.

* * *

The distant howling of wolves broke the silence, reminding the monk of the precarious nature of the monastery she visited. The Greyspeak Mountains were famous for their grey-skinned giants, young dragons, and goblin keeps, making them an unpopular traveling spot; yet the monks who had built the carefully hidden monastery found the lack of encroaching civilization promising. So into the blue pines they had nestled the brownstone retreat, protecting it with both magic and marital arts and allowing monks such as Nyx Jassan, one of the Holy Javelins of Hoar, to train there in relative peace. 

Therefore, on this quiet evening Nyx stared into a candle flame, trying to clear her mind and meditate on the new technique she was learning. Self-healing was perhaps one of the most helpful abilities she could master as a monk, but while she was grateful to get this opportunity, she was distracted. Her gaze wandered away from the candle, briefly passing over her small bedroom, which contained nothing more than a singe cot, a nightstand, and a wooden chair. Practical and efficient, just like the rooms in Nyx's home monastery in Silverymoon. The monk sighed; it'd been ten years since she'd set foot in any monastery, and in the intervening time she'd worked alone . . . until now.

Monks were trained to work alone, and Nyx had always assumed that pursuing her profession and holy duty would mean a life of solitude. She'd accepted this fact when she'd entered the monastery as a child because even then she hadn't any desire to marry, settle down, and have children. It was not the life she'd wanted for herself, a life like her mother's—a woman who as a widow had struggled to feed and clothe four children, a woman whose days were filled with work and whose nights were consumed with cooking and housecleaning . Nyx liked children, but she had wanted to be free . . . free to roam Faerun, free to devote herself to holy duties.

Yet despite the fact Nyx enjoyed working alone, she was drawn to her companions and the friendship they promised. Jarlaxle might be a bit too enigmatic, but Tai was the sweetest—and wisest—young man she'd ever met. He reminded her of her youngest brother, who was the same age.

And then there was Entreri . . .

Nyx felt the smile on her lips. His pure discipline and work ethic were qualities she could respect and identify with, and his intelligence and stoicism were impressive. But what she found herself most drawn to were his fine shoulders and smooth, muscular chest . . . One day during Tai's recovery, she'd stopped at Entreri and Jarlaxle's room to ask a question, and the assassin had been shirtless when he answered the door. Her gaze had immediately dropped to his chest and the exquisitely defined muscles there, not to mention the toned abdomen and the expanse of brown skin. At the time, she'd had a brief vision of her hand running across that strong chest, and she'd nearly forgotten her question.

Nyx laughed at the memory even as her cheeks grew warm. It was useless—she couldn't even pretend she was not attracted to the man. She'd always preferred the silent, athletic type, and the only thing that gave her pause was the lingering cold emptiness in the man's eyes and the ethical difference it signaled.

Still, the unaffected, stoic way that the assassin stood by Tai's side wasn't lost on the monk, and her heart ached when she wondered what had so hurt this man that he should sink himself into darkness.

"I'm doomed," she whispered to herself, still smiling.

These thoughts, however, were not helping her practice her newest skill, so Nyx shook her head and refocused on the candle. Awareness of body was the first step in the process of self-healing. This required clearing the mind and honing one's concentration. Nyx rolled her shoulders back, straightened her spine, and trained her gaze on the flame. Minutes passed as she felt her mind turn inward and the sensations and sounds of the outer world grew more distant, as though her body were merely attached to her mind by a string.

That was when the candle flame changed shape. As though frozen in place, Nyx stared with growing horror as the tear-shape of the fiery tongue branched upward, growing arms. The flame quickly assumed a humanoid outline, doubling in size as its orange arms reached toward her. A face formed next, with slits for eyes and a fanged mouth, then the fire creature burst upward into a life-sized monster that arched toward Nyx like a cat springing.

Suddenly free to move, Nyx jerked backward with a yell, but the motion broke the spell, leaving only an innocent candle with a normal orange flame.

A vision. Rare in monks, but highly significant. And definitely an omen. And despite the content of the vision, the danger didn't feel aimed at her, which left her with only one possible conclusion.

"Stinking, bloody . . .!" she muttered. "I can't leave those men alone for even a few days that they don't run themselves into trouble!"

The anger was all bravado, though; Nyx was deeply worried. She blew out her candle and headed for the high monk's room. She needed help interpreting her vision, for if the danger it portended were immediate, Nyx would have to rush to her friends' aid.

* * *

A cool breeze whipped through the trees, rustling the leaves, and an unseen animal crashed through the nearest bushes. Tai glanced up at the sound and scanned the encroaching darkness. Now that evening had fallen, the shadows seemed to spill into the streets, creeping up the sides of buildings and curling around corners like a black fog. The sight spurred Tai to quicken his steps; he wanted to reach the inn before the last rays of light faded from the sky. 

Tai's extensive search of his half of the village had yielded nothing, as had his unscheduled exploration of the forest's edge. He'd crossed paths with Jarlaxle briefly, and the drow had admitted to a similar problem. He could only hope Entreri had been luckier. For now, however, the trio would be best served by rest and dinner.

Yet the trip to the inn was proving itself to be an unnerving affair. Shadows seemed to pace Tai from street to street; movement at the end of each alleyway he passed suggested he was being followed. The sight of the inn's fenced in yard was a blessing, but the shadows seemed to be gathering at the end of the street. Sensing danger encompassing him, Tai sprinted through the tavern courtyard and up the steps, hoping Entreri and Jarlaxle had returned before him.

The tavern proved to be empty. Tai glanced around the room, noting the blackness seeping down the stairs and the shadows pooling in the corners. The air felt chill and damp and smelled faintly of earth. From just beyond the windows, the priest heard children laughing and whispering—high-pitched giggles and murmurs. But Tai knew it wasn't children, so the sound caused a sheen of cold sweat to break out on his body.

The allips had encircled the tavern like a pack of wolves. Tai bit his lip, wondering how many allips he could face and defeat alone, but he immediately shook away the thought and the fear it caused. There was no time for panic. He took the wand Jarlaxle had given him, aimed it through one of the latticed windows, and speaking the command word, fired it. A glimmering red flare arched into the sky and exploded.

That task complete, Tai mentally sifted through his divine gifts. The most obvious answer was problematic: Tai could consecrate the tavern, purifying the area so that these undead creatures were crippled. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to set the stage because the rite of consecration was complicated at best.

From the shadows came reaching hands followed by gaunt faces. The allips' emaciated bodies seemed to form from the darkness itself, their giggles, moans, and mutters staining the air. Wild eyes stared at Tai with a hatred that transcended death; teeth gnashed with bloodlust.

Praying for Hoar's strength and favor, Tai drew his magical dagger and faced his attackers.


	4. Chapter 3

"_I am a fighter—purely a fighter. I do not mix the calling of my life with lies of gentleness and love."—A.E., THG_

**CHAPTER THREE**

Tai held his magical dagger ready, and the thin blade flashed silver, as though echoing his determination. Three allips had emerged from the shadows of the tavern, floating through the tables toward his position. From the corner of his vision, Tai could see a fourth allip at the top of the stairs. He bit his lip, calling once again upon his god for help and strength and feeling his connection to Hoar light like a flame.

Tai had learned his lesson the first two times: he could not allow himself to be touched, nor could he allow one to sneak up behind him. This meant dividing up his battlefield and using the layout of the inn to his advantage. With a plan quickly forming in his mind, the priest sprinted for the stairwell. Jerking open a pouch on his belt, Tai dipped his fingers in one of his most priceless blessed materials—diamond powder—and used the fine substance to write a divine symbol on the wood. Tracing two back-to-back spirals with his finger, Tai prayed and warded the doorway with divine power. The three allips behind him were almost within arm's distance, so he jumped up the stairs and met the fourth one head-on.

The fourth allip swung its arms at him like clubs, trying to smash in his head. Tai ducked the blows as though they could do actual physical damage, using every ounce of his training and agility to avoid the confusion the monster's touch would bring. Unfortunately, the allip had the high ground, granting it an advantage. Tai's was assisted only by the creature's madness. While the monster struck wildly, he withdrew and struck strategically, using his blade to empty blasts of electricity into his opponent's wavering form.

Behind him, the other three allips tried to enter the stairwell, only to be blasted backward by Tai's ward. Lacking the sense to retreat, the creatures continued to press forward, harming themselves repeatedly in the process. Fortunately, the divine power would hold indefinitely unless Tai discharged it, so the only creature Tai had to face was the one before him—unless others slipped in upstairs.

Ducking another swipe from his opponent, Tai called upon the connection between him and his god to draw more power. "_Emolite_," he prayed, closing his fist and then snapping it open, splaying his fingers wide. A burst of white light, nearly tangible in its power, blasted outward from Tai's palm in a 360 degree radius, illuminating every shadow in the tavern and striking the allips like a lightning bolt hurled from the heavens. All four creatures shrieked with pain, cowering as though their bodies were still made of flesh. Taking advantage of the opening, Tai sprang up the stairs and slashed through his opponent multiple times, causing the misty form to waver and then dissipate.

Below him, a burst of freezing rain and snow suddenly blasted through the room, slicing through the remaining allips and dispelling their forms. Tai hesitated, unsure at first what he was seeing, then realized that the source of the magic had to be Jarlaxle. Apparently the drow had seen Tai's flare and had come to help. Feeling reassured, he made his way back down the stairs to assess the situation.

Jarlaxle was grinning. "I see you received another friendly visit from the undead." He stowed a blue and silver wand in his belt. "I'm unsure which one of us they prefer more—you or me."

Tai paused, then decided to try for a humorous response to the drow's words. "And I'm equally unsure as to why anyone should prefer you over me, even if they are undead," he said, venturing to tease the elf. Jarlaxle's story concerning Tebryn Pharn had enabled Tai to understand both Jarlaxle and the drow race better—in fact, it had likely revealed a bit more than the mercenary had intended. In response, Tai had decided to reach out to him and try to build a friendship.

Jarlaxle blinked but seemed to quickly recover. His smile lit his entire face. "Because I have more style, of course!"

Tai chuckled, but his reply was cut short as Entreri ran, blades drawn, into the tavern. After one quick glance, he apparently determined the danger was past because his posture relaxed and he stowed his weapons. Realizing that Entreri would have taken care of any allips outside, Tai relaxed as well, although his connection to Hoar still seemed to hum in his chest.

"I was just about to tell Tai that I'd rushed to his aid only to find he had the situation under control," Jarlaxle said.

Entreri nodded once, as though nothing less could be expected from anyone he allowed to travel with him.

But Jarlaxle's eyes were glinting in amusement. "No doubt, it's due to your mentorship."

Entreri immediately squared his shoulders. "Your mouth. Shut it," he snapped.

The drow laughed. "It's hardly a bad thing! Our little band is growing stronger by the day thanks to your efforts."

"Your tongue is heading toward tassel-dom," the assassin said.

Tai tried not to smile. He couldn't understand why Jarlaxle insisted on implying he was Entreri Junior when their friendship was more brotherly—especially since Entreri never reacted well to being reminded that they shared any relationship at all. And yet, despite his protests, Entreri's soul seemed to be forcing its way in around the edges of his defenses. This must have been what Hoar had seen in the man and the reason why Hoar had—and still did—compel Tai to recruit Entreri to the path of poetic justice. However, there were times to speak and times to stay silent, and now was not the time to speak. Persistence was divine, nagging an abomination, and free will . . . Free will was the inherent right of any soul, even if it led to damnation.

"Master Entreri will choose his own path," Tai said suddenly, voicing the smaller part of his thoughts.

The two mercenaries stared at him, as if surprised to find he understood the game they were playing with each other . . . the game they were playing over him.

"Truly," Tai continued as though they were discussing the weather. "Encouragement is a fine thing, but you can't force Master Entreri to help me if he doesn't wish to."

The stares continued, although Jarlaxle spoke first. "I am not trying to force Artemis to do anything, I assure you. I was merely teasing him."

Tai nodded, overcome with that ageless peaceful feeling, that stillness that used to come over him regularly before the rape. The feeling reminded him of communing with Hoar. "That is good to hear, Master Jarlaxle, for true acts of friendship have no ulterior motives."

Entreri slanted a look at the drow. "What did you say about Tai when we first met him? 'Hoar abides deeply in this one's heart?'"

Jarlaxle smiled. "You heard it also?"

"Speaking about someone who is present is a sign of disrespect," Tai said without a single trace of anger. The profound peace was sifting through the layers of his soul, soothing each one and making colors seem brighter and sounds clearer. The dark pine wood of the tavern's floor and walls seemed a chocolate color now, and from the distance, crickets' chirps seemed to surround the inn in a chorus.

"Your god speaks through you," Jarlaxle said. "It has been a long time since I've heard it so keenly, and I'm quite pleased. Perhaps you should reconsider your denial of the possibility that you are the Chosen of Hoar."

With a smile, Tai put his hand over his heart, warming that spot on his chest. Strangely, he could feel his pulse in his fingertips, accompanied by the strong sense of order and justice that always accompanied Hoar's presence. "I wouldn't presume such a thing, although Hoar has recently suggested to me that I have a special task to accomplish in my life. If it is so, I will know it when the time is right." Tai smiled at the memory of that communion, which had occurred right before he had questioned Jarlaxle over the rape. Hoar had sent the message that he was enraged over Tai's treatment along with the hint that Tai had a special role to fulfill. Yet, for all he knew, his role was to _assist_ the Chosen, not be the Chosen.

Entreri was staring off to the side with a frown, as though uncomfortable with the spiritual bent of the conversation. His gaze snapped back to Tai abruptly. "I told you to call me Entreri. You have no need to stand on ceremony."

Jarlaxle shook his head at the assassin. "You have no grace with your words. We were talking of Tai's destiny!"

"You abruptly change topics quite frequently," Entreri said.

Tai was still smiling. "Of course, Artemis. I'm sorry."

And most telling of all, perhaps, was that Entreri didn't even seem to notice that Tai had said his first name—and Jarlaxle managed not to comment on it.

"Never mind," Entreri said. "I found a man and learned several things you both should hear."

* * *

The old woman stood just inside the doorway and watched Nyx pack. "It would be most unwise for you to leave." 

Impatiently, Nyx tossed her long hair out of her face and looked at the high monk. Her second vision had come to her during her morning bath, leaving her rushing about her room with wet, unbraided hair. "I apologize, Grandmaster. But even you agreed that my second vision was a portent of immediate danger."

The grandmaster didn't react; her face remained calm, lined only with wisdom and age. "I sympathize with your concern. And it is true that you have learned enough to finish mastering the technique on your own. However, by leaving at this point, you run the risk of not completing the training. Life can become hectic and complicated very quickly—especially when one travels with companions. You must actively set aside extra time each night to practice your new technique."

Nyx glanced up from her backpack, into which she had begun shoving several changes of clothes. "I understand, Grandmaster. I will be diligent so the time and effort you and the other monks have given me will not be wasted."

"It is not we you will hurt," the old warrior replied. "It is yourself. Take care, and go with your god." She bowed to Nyx.

Nyx bowed in return. "And may your goddess keep you healthy and strong."

The Grandmaster left Nyx to her packing, which the monk continued with grim determination. Her second vision had been equally violent as the first—a vision of her friends drowning. Nyx knew she couldn't wait, yet even as she prepared to leave, she felt oddly hesitant about seeing Entreri again. Her own thoughts over the last few days had made her feel uncertain. It was almost as though she thought that if Entreri knew her feelings, he'd laugh at her. That she wasn't pretty enough . . . _woman_ enough . . . to attract a man. _Any_ man.

Was that the source of her hesitance? It was a disturbing thought. Could she not be strong, a Holy Javelin of Hoar, and be sexual at the same time? Or did she need to have lovely gowns, sweet perfumes, and a touch of makeup? She wasn't sure, but she did know she had never been overtly feminine. She had nothing against noble ladies and thought they looked beautiful, but her attire was practical. She didn't even own perfume, makeup, or dresses, and her only source of pride was her hair. Could a man find a woman warrior sexy?

She pushed the thoughts away. She had been trained to live her life utterly alone. Why was she even thinking about such things? Especially now, when her friends were apparently in danger?

Having packed the last of her possessions, Nyx tied up her backpack and headed downstairs, not stopping to even tie back her wet hair. Her friends needed her; she couldn't waste a moment.

* * *

Entreri sat in the corner of the abandoned inn, watching Tai and Jarlaxle gather the components necessary for recreating the seal. The moonlight seeped through the window slats, illuminating Jarlaxle's garish purple hat and creating a blue sheen to Tai's black hair, but the light failed to brighten the room itself, leaving the corners doused in darkness. Despite the fire burning in the chimney, the shadows seemed to swell along the edges of the room, and Entreri kept his side vision trained on those spots, watching for the sign of allips. The rest of his attention he turned to polishing his dagger. 

The day had passed uneventfully as the men impatiently waited for midnight—the most powerful hour to pray to Hoar, and therefore the best time for Tai recreate the seal. Entreri and his companions had spent most of the time gathering and preparing components they had to 'sacrifice' to Helm and revisiting the old man Entreri had found the previous day. The elderly scribe, who they learned was named Edwin Garner, had explained the prophecy once again and recounted the original acts of evil and destruction that had brought Helm's wrath down upon the townspeople 500 years earlier. He'd even revealed the recent disturbing trends he thought had brought the prophecy to fulfillment, leaving Tai upset over stories of robberies, beatings, and killings.

"Are you finished yet?" the assassin asked his companions.

Tai looked up from the table where he and Jarlaxle were working. "Almost. We have the incense and salt ready, and I've caught the dove." He shuddered. "I can't believe I have to kill a bird. Still, I've gone over the directions a dozen times. All I have to do is bless the water, and we'll be ready to go."

Entreri kept an eye on the darkness rolling in the corners of the room. "I suggest you hurry, or we'll be fighting the monsters long before we reach the broken seal." He pointed to the shadows using the tip of his dagger. "I'd say the allips are beginning to amass."

Tai nodded and gestured at the floor, which shown with silver dust and holy water. "I'll hurry, but I did pray over this room and the court yard, just in case."

"Better that we not need the divine power," Entreri replied.

Tai quickly turned back to the water and began praying over it. Jarlaxle, though, looked less than worried. He hummed to himself as he packed all the supplies into various pouches and trapped the bird in a potato bag, almost as though he were happy at the thought of another fight. Entreri watched the drow work, noting Jarlaxle's wide smile and his red eyes, sparkling with excitement. That silly oversized hat and that confident swagger . . .

With a sudden shock, the assassin realized he didn't want to imagine the owner of that hat cold and dead, the red eyes glassy and unseeing. Never had Entreri considered a person's life as a spark which could be doused, a light which could leave the world darker when it was gone. It was imagery he had always found ridiculous and overly sentimental, and yet when he looked at the smiling, charismatic drow, he could grasp a small corner of that vision—even if it was only for a moment. After all the adventures, all the battles with Waylein, Socor, and Mordecai, the assassin found he did not look forward to the day when all that was left of Jarlaxle's smile were cold, stiff lips.

The realization was so startling all Entreri wanted to do was bury it.

Jarlaxle handed all the pouches to Tai and then walked over to the assassin as though to conference with him. However, the elf hesitated before he spoke and gave him a strange look, which made Entreri realize he must have had an odd expression on his face. "What are you thinking about, my friend?" the drow asked.

Entreri could not say, of course, and yet he found himself wishing he could utter the faintest hint of the unusual emotions he was discovering. "I suspect we'll have to fight our way to the clearing." He smirked at the drow. "Do not do something rash or foolish along the way."

Jarlaxle grew quite still for a moment, the trace of a genuinely joyful smile slowing etching itself onto his lips. He grinned suddenly—a blinding, honest smile—and squeezed Entreri's shoulder. "Nothing more foolish than you," he said.

The assassin wondered if he had managed to communicate too much, but the more pressing question of the moment was why he was thinking of such things. Did it have something to do with Tai's death and resuscitation in the saurian ruins? He shook the idea from his head. Far too many of these types of thoughts had been assaulting him over the past year, as though they were amassing in order to force him to face a long-ignored truth.

Tai had stowed all his pouches and turned toward them. "I'm ready."

"Then we must leave immediately," Entreri said, sheathing his dagger and standing.

The door to the inn burst open, and the men whirled toward the entrance, drawing wands or weapons, as a figure ran into the room.

"It's me," Nyx said breathlessly, stopping just inside the door and holding up her hands.

"Nyx!" Tai yelled in surprise. "What . . .?"

Entreri stared at her, momentarily taken off guard. She looked different somehow. He glanced over her, distracted, and realized her hair was down. It seemed to change her face.

Nyx had continued speaking. "I came as soon as I could. I had two visions that you all were in danger, and when I couldn't find you right away, I began to worry. In fact, if it hadn't been for the single line of smoke coming from this chimney, I'm not sure I would have located you here."

Further shocked, Tai stood up straighter. "Vision?"

Entreri interrupted them. "You two can discuss that later. We need to get to that broken seal immediately."

Jarlaxle gestured for Nyx to lead the away out the door. "We'll explain as we walk, but time is of the essence. We—" He stopped abruptly, turning his head to the side like a cat trying to hone in on a sound.

Several breathless moments passed as the three humans all strained their ears, and then they heard what had obviously captured Jarlaxle's attention: whispering. Waves of whispering filtering through the cracks in the windows and doors, mixing with the popping of the fire like rusty laughter.

Entreri drew his weapons as the shadows in the room's corners elongated and rose up around them like black fence slats. Bony hands reached out from the darkness; the whispering crescendoed abruptly, cresting into a dull roar that broke over the group like a wave.

Jarlaxle drew a wand, and Nyx closed flank with Tai as the shadows pressed inwards.

"Forget the explanation," Jarlaxle said. "They are already here."

Entreri reacted first, stepping forward and slashing his enchanted sword through the outstretched arms of the first allip. He really didn't want to be surrounded by a horde of the creatures, even if they weren't powerful individually. The thought being driven mad or senseless by their babbling or their touch left him feeling vaguely chilled.

Tai had grabbed Nyx's new nunchuku, an enchanted pair she'd had crafted during his recovery, and pressed them into her hands. "Don't let them touch you!" he explained. "Only use magical weapons—nothing else can hurt them."

Nyx nodded and snapped the nunchuku tight in her fists.

Jarlaxle aimed his wand at his nearest attacker and let loose a blast of freezing rain and snow, disabling the creature with the magic more than the cold, and Entreri cut his dagger through his attacker once again. However, the assassin quickly saw that the situation was direr than he'd assumed.

Six allips converged upon Jarlaxle and him, and four more were surrounded Nyx and Tai. Four allips would have been no problem. Even eight would have made reasonable odds. But ten? And that chorus of maddening babble! The air fairly vibrated with sing-song voices and mumbles, shrieks and snarls. Entreri growled, wishing he had wax to stuff in his ears. He and his companions would have to kill the creatures quickly or risk a state worse than death.

"Get out into the courtyard!" Tai yelled. "I've consecrated both the tavern and the yard—all I have to do say the word!"

Entreri understood immediately. They would force the allips through the consecrated tavern and then hit them again with the consecrated yard. He motioned for Jarlaxle and Nyx to go first, so they ran out the door. He stayed and waited for Tai, who made cross shapes in the air with each hand and then prayed. The silver dust and holy water on the floor seemed to detonate, emitting a flash of silvery light that pierced the corners of the room. Entreri squinted, and the monsters shrieked.

Tai sprinted toward the assassin, grabbing his arm as he passed, and Entreri ran out with him. "It only weakens them," the priest said.

"Anything that helps," Entreri muttered, and as they joined Nyx and Jarlaxle in the courtyard, he had to second his own notion. The monk and drow were already engaged in battle with two more allips.

"Oh, joy," Entreri said as he joined Jarlaxle, his sarcasm getting the better of him. "A dozen madness-inducing undead monsters. I do so enjoy our adventures together."

The drow grinned as he fired a bolt of electricity through his attacker. "Come now, this will be fun!"

_He's not serious!_ Entreri thought, turning to meet the charge of weakened allips that had followed Tai and him. "Well, since you're already mad, I guess you have nothing to fear."

Tai was drawing another two crosses in the air and was praying again.

"Flash!" Entreri yelled, and then the silver dust crunching under his feet ignited like a miniature supernova. The assassin could hear Nyx's cry of surprise, but none of the warriors dared to pause in their fight. Nyx swung her enchanted nunchuku through her attacker's head a half-dozen times in one second, and Jarlaxle now had a wand in each hand, alternating his blasts. Tai had already drawn his magical stiletto dagger to face his first allip, and Entreri had sword and dagger in hand, ready to meet the two monsters rushing toward him.

Even as Entreri cut through his victims, stinging them with the magic of his blades, he sized up his battlefield. The courtyard itself was only a patch of ground twenty feet by twenty feet in size. A wooden street fence blocked off the courtyard from the cobblestone street. This made the area too hemmed in for four fighters and twelve allips; Entreri decided to maneuver for more room.

Jarlaxle apparently had the same idea because he leapt the fence, drawing four undead with him. Nyx followed suit, vaulting the fence with a mere snap of her legs and luring two allips with her. That left Entreri and Tai facing six in the consecrated courtyard, which lowered the odds to his liking.

Entreri slashed through one allip in a crisscross move, then whirled to the side, leveling his sword and slicing it through the necks of two others. The battle was faintly frustrating, for there was no impact upon the blades, no dropping bodies. The undead did not bleed and die, they simply fluttered like a gutted candle flame. Still, Entreri slashed through them again, targeting vulnerable areas like stomachs, knees, and necks out of pure habit. The vaporous forms fluttered again, and with another set of strikes, all three forms dissipated. Satisfied, Entreri turned toward Tai, who had apparently destroyed one of his three attackers, and charged forward. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jarlaxle had eliminated two of his attackers, and Nyx one of hers. The battle was going well.

Yet before Entreri could reach the priest, another four allips emerged from the shadowy recesses of the street and converged upon the group. With a curse, the assassin skidded to a stop, quickly accessing who was in the most danger.

Tai had been backed into the corner of the fence by his two attackers, but he jumped over, drawing the monsters behind him. Nyx now had three attackers, and Jarlaxle had four once again. Decision instantly made, Entreri leapt and landed on fence with feline precision. He took the fence at a dead run, converging on Nyx and Tai's position. The last fate he'd wish upon his friends was madness, so he increased his speed and vaulted over Tai's head, slashing through an allip with his sword as he landed. Immediately, he pivoted and cut through one of the creatures attacking Nyx, and he simultaneously used his dagger to backstab through one of Tai's opponents. Two of the undead forms wavered and dissipated, leaving three. Satisfied that the priest and monk could finish off their attackers, Entreri glanced across at Jarlaxle.

Seeing the drow still surrounded by four allips, Entreri sprinted to his aid. Carefully avoiding the blasts from Jarlaxle's wands, Entreri targeted one monster at the edge of the group and rained four consecutive blows upon it in an instant—blows that would have cut open the skull, slashed through both jugular veins, and then disemboweled a living human. Sensing the allip that approached him from behind, he then reversed his sword to stab straight backwards, impaling the creature with the magic of his blade. Whirling in a tight circle, Entreri angled his blades in a corkscrew pattern, slashing through the monsters a half-dozen more times and dissipating their forms.

Even as Jarlaxle destroyed his two remaining attackers, a rolling mass of black clouds blotted out the moon. The air felt charged with electricity and heavy with a veil of evil. Jarlaxle snapped a glance at Entreri, his expression suddenly horrified.

Entreri took in the sight of Jarlaxle's widened eyes with unease. "What?"

Jarlaxle bolted toward Tai and Nyx, who had turned their attentions on their final attacker. "Don't destroy that allip!"

The monk and priest jumped backward, putting distance between themselves and the creature.

"Why?" Nyx asked as Jarlaxle joined them.

"I just figured it out," the drow said a touch breathlessly. "When we kill the last allip, the second wave of monsters will be summoned."

Tai began backing further away as the monster turned toward him. "Are you sure? Master Garner didn't mention anything along those lines."

"Drow's intuition," Jarlaxle said. "And the second wave may come anyway—we have basically defeated the horde. We must get to the clearing immediately. I'd say we have less than five minutes to create the new seal."

Entreri glanced at the inky sky as a ferocious bolt of lightning pierced the blackness. "I'd say your right."

Without further discussion, the group raced out of town and toward the edge of the forest.


	5. Chapter 4

"_Certainly there will be conflicts and perhaps very dangerous ones for both parties . . .  
But the longer the alliance holds, the stronger it will become,  
the more entrenched in friendship."—Drizzt Do'Urden on AE and JB, SotS_

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Tai ran behind Entreri and Jarlaxle with Nyx alongside him, their destination the forest clearing where the original seal was broken. The final allip trailed in their wake, too weakened by their previous blows to catch them. Above Tai's head, the sky swelled with rolling, blackened clouds that blotted out the moon and stars; jagged streaks of lightning ripped through the darkness, calling forth crashing thunder. Nyx kept glancing up in concern.

"Helm is preparing to summon the second wave of monsters from the forest," Tai said breathlessly, trying to explain the situation as they ran. "He plans to raze the village and punish all the wrong-doers."

"He must have been talking with Hoar when he concocted his punishment," Nyx called back.

Tai felt inclined to agree, although he knew enough about Helm to know he didn't allow his followers to abuse their own creed. But there was no time to ponder theology, no time to explain anything further to Nyx. If the second wave arrived, he and Jarlaxle would be killed because of the threat they represented—the threat of a new seal. So to save Jarlaxle and himself—and likely Entreri and Nyx as well—Tai had to prepare an unfamiliar spell.

Lightning shot through the sky again, illuminating the heavens and revealing a parting in the clouds, as though Helm himself might descend and call forth the monsters in person.

"Hurry!" Jarlaxle yelled back at them.

The group sprinted through the trees and entered the clearing with the splintered rock. Tai raced up to the boulder and began tossing the pouches which held the spell components onto the surface. Jarlaxle, who needed to supply the blood, joined him while the others stayed back and watched for the final allip.

"Light this," Tai said, handing Jarlaxle a candle. He then pulled the spell components out of the pouches, starting with the bowl.

"Are you ready?" Jarlaxle asked, holding the burning candle in one hand.

Tai inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. He'd never had to prepare such a strong spell, never had to prepare any new spell without his uncle's guidance. However, he couldn't hesitate; above his head, the heavens had parted further, revealing a red light. "Yes. Let's do this."

The components of the spell were numerous and complicated, and Tai had to apply them in the correct order—and quickly. First, he took up a bottle of water he'd blessed and poured it in a circle around himself, Jarlaxle, and the boulder, creating a magical defense. As he created the circle, he prayed a simple prayer: "Hoar, I ask that you protect us with your divine strength as I seek to bind this chaos and evil." As soon as the circle was closed, it glowed faintly silver, like a tiny river reflecting moonlight.

Tai nodded in satisfaction and continued the spell. Taking a pouch, he filled the bowl with salt, gold flakes, and a knotted string. Then Tai took out the scroll that Master Garner had given Entreri and read the incantation for the seal, which like his prayer was deceptively simple:

"What was once before must now be again—  
I call upon the forces of righteousness and law  
To seal this evil and protect this land."

Tai rolled up the scroll and placed it in the bowl. Then he drew the holy symbol of Hoar over the bowl and took the candle from Jarlaxle. He wasn't allowed to speak again until the spell was complete, so he nodded to Jarlaxle, who drew one of his daggers and pricked his finger, squeezing several drops of blood into the bowl.

"Hurry," Jarlaxle whispered as he stepped back, and Tai realized that all of nature had become unnaturally still. Above them, the entire sky was stained blood red, the black clouds having been pushed to the edges.

Panicking, Tai knew he was out of time, and what remained was the hardest part of the spell. He had to use the candle to light the spell components and then grasp each side of the bowl with his hands. Hoar's divine power would be channeled through his body into the fire, and the seal would form. Remembering all too clearly what had happened the last time he'd channeled a great deal of divine power, Tai found himself sweating. But he couldn't stop now; he simply had to trust his god.

Tai reached down and lit the scroll, then shoved the candle back at Jarlaxle. He gripped the bowl and instantly felt the surge of power. A yellow glow seemed to infuse his entire body and race down his arms into the bowl, which shot forth blinding golden rays like a small sun. A faint hum filled the air, growing in volume until the clearing was pierced with a dull roar. The bowl seemed to turn into melted gold, slipping through Tai's fingers and oozing into the boulder like liquid sunlight. The fluid seeped into the cracked seal, causing the entire boulder to shine as it melded back together. Then a ring of light exploded from the rock, accompanied by a loud _boom_ that shook leaves from the trees and momentarily deafened Tai.

The echo of the boom faded along with the sun-like glow, leaving the clearing dark and silent. Before Tai stood a steaming boulder that was whole again. The blood-stained tint faded from the sky, revealing the moon and stars and a clear night.

Tai tentatively put his hand over his heart, but the muscle didn't constrict in pain. In fact, the only side effect seemed to be a tingling in his fingers. He exhaled heavily and slumped in relief, glad that he had saved his friends.

Jarlaxle glanced around the clearing as though checking for any lingering enemies, then he relaxed as well. "We seem to have averted the second wave," he said, grinning and patting Tai on the back. "Well done, my young friend!"

Tai gave him a weak smile, thinking only of sleeping for a solid day. "Thank you."

Entreri seemed to not have relaxed yet, however; instead, he stared with hooded eyes at the edge of the clearing. "I thought the new seal was supposed to take care of all the monsters, including the final allip."

Tai turned toward the assassin in time to see the last allip emerge from the trees like a limping dog. "I was under the impression it would," he said, disturbed. Why had it not been destroyed?

Entreri shrugged and raised his new sword, which had been tagged The Black Widow. "No matter." He stepped forward and with the smooth grace of the trained warrior leveled the greenish blade. For a strange moment, the allip seemed to freeze in place, and Entreri seemed to instantaneously teleport from the center of the clearing to the edge. Simultaneously, Tai's ears popped, and he blinked, wondering what had occurred.

"What in the . . .?" Nyx began, throwing her hands up to her ears.

Jarlaxle laughed as Entreri turned a puzzled look upon them. "Delightful! Your sword can stop time."

"Apparently. It's still revealing its tricks to me," the assassin said, holding the blade up and examining it with a touch of satisfaction. "Perhaps I shall keep it for a while longer."

"I certainly have never seen a weapon do such a thing before," Nyx said, sounding intrigued, and Tai turned his attention to her, remembering that he wanted to ask her about her visions.

But before he could open his mouth, the priest did a double take, stopping to truly look at Nyx for the first time that night. The moonlight had fallen squarely on the clearing, providing ample light, and Tai hardly recognized the woman who was now illuminated. Nyx had apparently left her hair down after washing it, and once set free, her hair had curled. Soft auburn ringlets framed her face, drawing attention to her dark eyes. The curls framed her shoulders and raced down her back to fall below her beltline, and in that moment, Tai realized that his friend was, in truth, quite lovely.

A quick glance to the side told Tai that he wasn't the only male present who had slowed down enough to notice. Jarlaxle was watching Nyx and grinning, no doubt formulating an exasperating quip, but it was Entreri's expression that was remarkable. He stared at Nyx, his gaze unfaltering, as though he'd only now noticed the monk was female.

"Why Nyx!" Jarlaxle exclaimed. "Allow me to take this moment to extol your beauty. I knew you'd have lovely curls. You should forego the crown braids and let your hair move freely—you are breath-taking!"

Nyx snorted. "So my enemies can use my hair against me or it can get in my way as I fight? I think not."

Entreri seemed to have recovered and was frowning at the drow. "We are not out of battle five minutes, and you are already waxing lecherous?"

"Do not claim you did not notice her beauty," Jarlaxle replied, wagging a finger.

Tai smiled. He suspected that neither Entreri nor Nyx had taken the time (or care) to have a lover, and he wondered briefly how awkward they might be about it. Or, in the assassin's case, reluctant. Still, if even the most casual of relationships brought a bit of joy to their lives . . .

Nyx grinned. "I suppose we might cure Jarlaxle's lechery if we had someone hex him to settle down with a nice human woman and have a brood of seven children."

Tai laughed at the mental picture—laughed harder than usual in fact, as though he were dispelling the tension of the last several days. "A horde of hyper children climbing furniture and trees!"

"Who would disappear into the streets all day and sucker other children out of their toys!" Nyx said.

Entreri looked like he was having a waking nightmare. "Who would grow up and build seven empires that covered every nation in Faerun."

"But of course!" said an amused Jarlaxle. "My offspring wouldn't be able to help being great achievers." He stopped and threw his hand up to his chest in mock horror. "Still, how evil of you! Although I assure you, there is no such spell."

"Then we'll find a talented wizard and have him or her create such a spell," Entreri said. "I can just imagine you burping babies and carting off dirty cloth diapers."

Jarlaxle snorted.

"And I can imagine toddlers pulling on your pointed ears and yanking out your earrings," Entreri continued, obviously enjoying torturing the mercenary.

"Don't make jokes about fatherhood, my friend," Jarlaxle cut in, motioning at Tai. "I can simply point out that you—"

"Tassel," Entreri said.

The elf just grinned, and Tai shook his head, deciding Jarlaxle teased Entreri with "Junior" jokes simply to be irritating.

Jarlaxle had stepped in front of the group and was gesturing toward the small dirt road that led back to Withey Township. "Shall we be on our way? We must rest ourselves so we may set out early tomorrow morning. Adventure awaits!"

"And profit," Entreri said.

"Don't forget danger and beautiful women for Jarlaxle to ogle," Nyx chimed in.

"Why, most definitely!" the elf agreed.

Tai chuckled over Jarlaxle's hedonism and followed his friends back to the deserted inn.

* * *

Jarlaxle watched his human allies tear into a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, fruit, biscuits, and gravy. Some of the villagers had returned home the night before; in fact, a steady stream of villagers had entered the town all night and morning. The innkeeper and a few members of his staff had been among them, and now Jarlaxle and his companions were being treated to a hero's breakfast, all due to the praise of Edwin Garner, the elderly scribe. 

"This is better," Jarlaxle said, picking up one of his orange slices. "A hero's treatment, complete with a five course meal."

Nyx shook her head in exasperation, and Entreri glowered at him, apparently still miffed by the mere mention of the word "hero." But Jarlaxle smiled, thinking back to Entreri's stunning speed and agility in battle the night before. Instead of being slowed by age, the shade-infused human was improving—strengthened not only by magical blood but by his commitment to his friends. _I was right,_ the drow congratulated himself. _The man's true potential has never been realized—couldn't be realized until he found his heart._

Yet even though the drow had foreseen his friend's true potential, he could not foresee what these changes would come to mean.

"I'm merely glad we are all four alive this morning," Tai said. "Averting the devastation of a prophecy is no small thing."

Jarlaxle turned his attention to the priest. "So you believe prophecies are real? That what happened here really was destiny?"

Tai nodded without hesitation. "Some prophecies are real, certainly. In fact, all divine prophecies come true, provided that such prophecies are given by the deity and not created by power-hungry priests or followers. Yet even fake prophecies may be self-fulfilled, especially when the false prophecy is endorsed by a cult leader."

A dark expression crossed Entreri's face, and Jarlaxle was once again reminded of the man's distrust of priests.

"But people often misinterpret prophecies or read into them what they most want to hear," Tai continued. "In this case, the true prophecy was ignored and therefore circulated in an incomplete from. The villagers ignored the fact that their unlawful behavior would trigger the release of the allips and focused only on the fact it would be a drow who released the seal. However, that makes my point for me: when dealing with true prophecies, one must pay attention to the entire prophecy, word for word, and remember its _spirit_. For example, a prophecy which reads that an elf will tear down his kingdom and reconstruct it in seven days could very easily be metaphorical, not literal."

"That also suggests that people could open the interpretation so widely that most anything could fit the prophecy," Entreri said.

Tai nodded. "It is a careful line to walk. You have to study the entire text around the prophecy—you cannot isolate it from its context. You also have to make sure the apparent fulfillment of the prophecy fits the established personality and goals of the deity. A prophecy conveyed by a goodly god such as Torm, for example, would never be fulfilled by evil means."

Entreri sighed. "Abstract nonsense."

Jarlaxle laughed. "Not at all! When interpreted correctly, prophecies are quite powerful."

"And prophecies are part of the realm of faith," Nyx said, "which is something not proven by logic. Much like trust and love."

"And we all know how good Artemis is with trust and love," Jarlaxle quipped.

"About as good as Jarlaxle is," Entreri said.

"Now Artemis," the elf began, but he stopped as a figure approached their table.

Edwin Garner, who had been talking to various townspeople throughout the room, had now returned to them. "My apologies for interrupting your meal," he said.

"Not at all!" Jarlaxle replied.

Garner leaned against his staff, which had been carefully carved from white birch. "I know you will soon be on your way, and with our thanks. But before you go, Helm has impressed upon me to give you a warning."

Entreri squared his shoulders and eyed the man with distrust, but Jarlaxle merely continued to smile.

"Yes?" the drow prompted.

"In the future, the four of you will again face a blood prophecy," Garner said. "It is most always about blood, for blood is bound to both life and death. The spilling of blood is a symbol and a sacrament, a simulacrum for worlds to come. The spilling of blood is a revelation and a fulfillment. You cannot hope to move the worlds or touch the divine without blood." He nodded once to them and then moved away.

"Just what I need with my breakfast," Entreri said. "Riddles."

But Tai was frowning, obviously disturbed, and Nyx appeared no less so, likely remembering her visions. The priest and monk had spoken at length about her flashes of premonition on the way back to the inn the night before, but they had not decided why she'd received the visions.

Jarlaxle needed no simulacra, however, no shadows or ghosts. He already knew that real empires were built on real blood, often spilt. And he needed no prophecies to know that he could achieve his goals on the surface, building himself a new organization remotely allied with Bregan D'aerthe yet simultaneously a new home separate from Menzoberranzan.

Freedom, if he dared to call it that.

"Intriguing," was all he said, turning back to his friends and his breakfast with a smile.

Who needed a premonition when one had a plan?

* * *

_A/N: A huge thanks goes out to Darkhelmetj and Rezuri for beta reading! _

I must thank the following people for brainstorming sessions, hints, ideas, and/or inspiration (in alphabetical order): ChichiX, Darkhelmetj, Lord Onisyr, Rezuri, and Silverwolf.

The second and third stories of this series, "Simulacrum" and "Revelation," have long been under way, with "Simulacrum" approaching 7000 words and "Revelation" approaching 5000. I probably won't be able to give sufficient time to "Simulacrum" to drum up chapter one until X-Mas break, though, so don't expect to see the next installment until January. Sorry, folks, but I'm doing the best I can with the time I have (or don't have). Thank you for your patience!


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